Banquet Comments

I see in your body a moist banquet, a loveable feast. I imagine myself a naked tramp, adorned in purloined barber rags, plodding the meringue on grit and vanishing wave, the stink of sour urine and fire walks beside me, through an endless desert, about as wide as it is long pulsating under an oppressive light bulb. With each step I drop into the stinging sand I feel emaciation tickling my toes tempting me to fall wrapping its fingers and slightly teasing me down from the tightrope I walk bare...
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