A momentous event was brewing in the trees. A blood curdling cry slashed the heavens. A battalion of Siamang monkey’s was on the march. I was not alone.
We consume pain and sorrow, through inward looking mirrors at banquette feasts.
,,erupted from my throat, gushing upwards in a voluminous spewing geyser of bile, orange juice and inhuman screams,,
,,,only to inhale it all back in ravenously, and in the shortest amount of time. Spit, sweat and phlegm spewed forth in hyperbolic grace from my distorted face...