The fruit of rot is without kind--it needs

to be stomached.

It needs to be bore thru, kept way down--

till it smells like a baby's head.

Appetite's opposite has clothed the

pickiest animal in edibility.

Entertained by how it is left out, &

itself spoils--uneaten.

Five out of five unlit stars.

More decadent than tons of unharvested

food.

This body wills itself to the feeding of

lions.