Let Me Out Of Here
He scrapes the gray festering junk of flesh from her screaming wound, home to an infinite dying souls, and watches her teeth drop like globs of burning tar-laced diamonds. Paisley-patterned grasshoppers fly like lasers galloping from one tooth to other tooth and so forth until nothing was left but shrill mandibular root flakes and super-lukewarm plasma. Nearby, inverted mountains made of hate by man are strewn about within avid vacuum salesmen strategically to annoy timid leaf-blower consumers whom coexist separated by barricades patrolled by cowboys on acid who take their time to stay around and get nowhere.