She touched the
dead body.
In pale throes of
silent decay, it
waited.
How ridiculous,
she cried out,
how artificial,
this bag of
purple
intestines--
I should produce
something finer,
more charitable
than this!
So she slit her
beautiful throat
and made lush
geysers pour
over the dead
body, painting
it red like
strawberries.
This is pain!
This is truth!
She laughed and
laughed,
mounting the
corpse with
spidery thighs.
