Fountains that churn liquid cement, not water (he's hardening).
He wants to erode her scapula. Pluck out her neurons."
from the poem Nether Chord, by Juliet Cook & Robert Cole
Which appears within the innards (along with lots of of other work) of the latest Sein und Werden's GLAMOURAMA issue here - http://
According to the editor - "Here she is folks, wobbling on super high heels, the blood from a still warm animal dripping down her neck, a diamond choker slicing into the withered throat, centipede eyebrows dying, that permanent rictus grin... Let's hear it for Miss Glamourama 2013..."