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| Rip my belly open, Phillip. Rip it open and smoosh your fingers in the folds and bends of my viscera. Knead my colon and hear my uncontrolable gas, squeeze my kidney and fill my blood with its acid. | |
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| Then spoon me out into stoneware, each spoon-flicked shoveling hitting the bowl's side with a wet thwacking sound. Spoon me out completely, Phillip. spoon me out and drape my empty shell around you. | |
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| Standing there, adorned in my rotting, empty shell, flies gathering, smell burning your eyes and nose, taste sticking to the roof of your mouth, then MAYBE you can catch a small glimmer of how I feel. | |
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