Firm grip on slick tail the slow gobble of ones own indeterminate self unhinge jaw and swallow deeper destroy the id and ego inch by phallic inch its a cinch tighten saddle on the pack animal of your nightmarish and angsty forgotten forlorn internal scorn the slow swallow creates a circular momentum propelling and compelling the distinct act of travel eager to unravel but unable to pass on systematic consumption of your own skeleton through muscle and fat you gorge on the succulent tender organs gently resting within bones sweet cave and through all this you forget to take note of the three birds landing on black wire eager to pick apart your appetite's torn and ravaged remaining but forgotten portion tossed aside like the band paraphernalia you purchased in hopes of clambering backstage to impress those who cannot possibly live up to your idolization and fascination but there you are round and ravenous rolling through the times and ages past soon to be forgotten sages prophets on soap boxes and the loveless nail biting nervous members of what was once known as society but that crumbled long ago in the age of technology when hand shakes came in the form of texts and love was expressed through a poorly conceived conceptual drawing comprised of two half circles and a triangle.
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