The salt and sand, your stomach acid. Churning, crunching, your mouth opens slow (You monster) a gaping maw that devours people. Whole. Your stomach lining is cold, covered in a thick plastic, green-grey speckled with phlegm and age spots. Yellow and black nerves, bright against your flesh, trickle, drip downward. I want to press one,Continue reading “The Beast – A Boston Poem”
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Cassandra Mortimer 