Writer - Anthony DeGregorio
Her skin, in contrast to the freshness of lavender scented lanolin, and just picked flash frozen lemons, coupled with the brisk scent of cinnamon (by the way, an aphrodisiac), was a cross between death and wet cardboard. But this somber tone was counterbalanced by her cheerful offer of a bite of her heavily- and yellow-mayonnaised tuna and anchovy sandwich.
How could I not be in love?! Who needs silky skin, or temporal beauty when you have utterly soggy and sponge-like fish to share? Later she coughs up great wads of green phlegm and opens
the tissue, sharing for my full viewing pleasure! She farts when she giggles, crinkles her nose at the stench. Puss pushes out through her 3 1/2 grey teeth. It is nearly incomprehensible that
someone this thin, nearly emaciated could explode with such vengeance against all things that bring breath through their fearfully flaring nostrils and into their quivering lungs.
How could anyone resist this temptress? Sniffing her fingers after she’s scraped toe jam from between her seven and four digit (left and right respectively) feet. When she vomits into my lap I want to share this manna with the world, such is my joy! Let no soul go hungry again! Her
belly stew steaming with the infectious aroma of bile and overly-aged provolone. And I thought true love would never find me. Would never pour its gruel upon my head and into my heart. Would never pout its tender herpes simplex lips against my nose and eyes.
Come, my love, off the toilet and into the tub. Your ring of filth awaits our plunge.
The scum that is long dried rancid cheese and compost shall e’er be ours in this grey eternity of errant eros.