Chew me, will you?
Chew me, won't you?
Wedge me 'tween two
wine-stained yahoos.
Soak my core through
scaly beast, You!
Look at me.
I've become so theatrical, lying here, drowning in oddments and drool. How long now have I rotted in the eves I've missed, ****** away paths and pavements creeping like mold over my timber skin.
To think, I could have been a Great American Novel, a Wonder, a Classic. My torso might have melted the hearts of millions, the fingers of my web might have crawled carefully down their backs, spinning - oh so suddenly - a twist into their spines, while they themselves press loving, thrilling craters into mine.
I might have swept up her posthumous time machine and his mad spiral from the clouds in the booming wood and brass of one tender-fingered soldier's Trojan triumph over death and his countrymen.
But here I am, a Janitor, an Afterthought. Sweating in my splintered coat, stabbing at wet hunks of lamb that shamelessly remind me of how Wasteful I am.
Aspirations grow even between your teeth.
