Sulking in the corner. A flaccid belly angry in anticipation. Gathering, heaping, sifting and grinding at all this pillowing decay, she cuts loose. The stale old filth under this bed is soon sucked up with the rest of the rot. My old lady is never satisfied. Gathering speed, and with spasmodic binges, she just grows fatter.
Wailing and shrieking along a frantic route her brittle skeleton and turgid bladder dance together in a cloud of electrostatic rapture. Chattering teeth crunch the floor along their drunken path. With her great spread mouth and iron lips raked prized are sucked up through a narrowing lined in ancient crust. She begins to howl with delight.
The old gluttonous actress purges, then carries on. Tendrils of matted fiber, dried paste of yesterday’s suppers. All are devoured in rasps and scrapes licking at every remote crevasse and fissure, probing the dark dank depths of domestic space in ceaseless rotation. Her tired heart trolls on licking up the flakes and knots and leaving behind perfectly a swabbed and tidy abyss. For now.
With each turn of the wheel a growing void replaces the tasty soft traces of time.