Literature
Everything can be eaten.
Agustina Bazterrica’s “Tender is the Flesh,” sensual shapes, cyberpunk neon pastel lit contours, cheeks made for eating… My body aches, from age, from hunger, from years of simmering, my skin, my soul, my pen on fire, pulsations beneath the surface quickening, drumming animalism, ancient, beautiful, primitive, raging hunger within, famished, my eyes, in the dark, glistening static & electric I crave your touch, your scent, your lips, your thighs, your toes, your chest, your stomach, your spit, your shoulders, your neck, your back, your cunny, your cheeks, and the hole in between Dripping with devouring, my gluttony, wet with unanswered prayers and agony, the roar grows, deafening, my grip tightens, my fingertips tingle, breath comes faster, gasping, I long to long, to feel, to have, to hold, to taste, EVERYTHING, to devour you whole, if only, for a moment in the grand scheme, a simple, singular moment of otherness, where I can become nothing, devoured by my
