I will call myself in all manners a coward;
hear the slight lurch the slight crunch the thick skin splintering amid rivulets of translucent fluids – even so I mask it pettily in sweetness
but the state of the teeth disagree; the angle of the jaw protests
I want sweet words and gentle whispers but I shall provide all manner of rot, all depths of intoxication; don’t worry that you’re still finding the means to bear the sensation
you’re just one of us. and maybe more so than I think.