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Her scaly skin stretched
Like marzipan covering chocolate ice-cream cake.
Her thick wet lips spread across her face
Shoving gallons of meat down her gullet
With her fish limp hands.
Her small round eyes bulged out
To indulge in the pleasures of her sight.
The grand prix had been on her head
And what’s left was race tracks
With smoke rising from stumps of burnt hair.
She used her earlobes as bra-straps
Holding up what jelly-tot breasts she had.
Her duck feet flopped on the floor when she walked.
Her arms were stumps of grey flesh
Articulating to hold things.
Her last words on earth
Before she choked on a chunk of meat
Were: “Gimme more!” |
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