February 23, 2015

“I scrambled the meat like I would eggs. Spindly hands came up the toilet bowl drain and tickled my palms. The hands thought they might startle me into releasing the meat. Instead, I grabbed the meat harder, taking up large handfuls that squeezed out between my fingers. You laid across the floor and I piled the meat over you. I made a meat pie on your chest. Your stomach was a meat castle. Shapes broke down, rose up, and I patted and flattened the meat until it was smeared flat. I twisted my fingers in the redness. You opened your mouth.”

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