Molars - text
He collapsed into fists, and his fingers burned.
-He spent shadows growing tall and thin.
-He had hardly lived, was only just a man, when he was consumed.
-He might have smoked a briar pipe, might have worn a monocle, but instead he ATE.
-He never dreamt of teeth, never dreamt of molars, growing where they should not be.
-He crafted knots using miles of throat.
-He screamed with chipped enamel, blistered airways flecked and sprayed with digestive juice.
-He fingertips, he broken lips.
Whoa-oh-oh and so forth.
-He wasted memory, his smallclothes eaten.
-He fashionably undone, his crepe-covered family.
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