As always a few things floating around the back of my brain somewhere between the tip of my tongue and my throat.
I was hoping to create a huge version of the plastic dinosaurs my brother used to collect and I used to feed.
Act I:
Dinosaurs and Playdough – an explanation.
When I think about the dinosaurs, they fill me with such glee. Maracas, I say. Maracas. I never cared for their dietary requirements – how can plastic have a suggested nutritional intake?
But still, bright red balls of flesh, delicious and pushed down the throat. Until it dries out and tingles upon the lips.
My words splutter out (excrement – word vomit) just vomit itself.
And it still has no where to go. So it flakes and hardens, along the gullet. If you pick them up, they shake (that’s the unfortunate truth to the whole occasion)
Act II:
Hearts. Sow, inside out. Sucking the juice from Squid.
(A defense) In a tin.
I packed them in a tin, for you to pull out on the right occasion.
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