con carne

temptation by tom waits

1.
i can't resist.

2.
there were fools who lasted about three months on that trip before disease or starvation killed them: pembroke, to whose diary we are indebted for the details, lupus-waldsworth the surgeon, and tripnose, the minstrel. except that he was killed by squirrels. they went for the nuts. pembroke, i find, spoke most eloquently for himself and lupus-waldsworth, however, when he wrote the following on the twenty-fourth of november that year:

v v v v v
v v v v v
v v v v v
v v v v v
...this v, it is a fever of the brain, a cypher from which all else hangs, all else hanging over-saturate and supreme, gloating, glowing, spinning, rotting... the innocent apex, the crux of most salvation. on a doily.

he was raving by that time, you see. six months later the body was found. nutless.

3.
don't be ridiculous, clarice.
you don't want to put that there.
(my delicacy hold me)

*pants*

*defenestrates depressed body as metaphor for fire extinguisher*

4.
for instance, we only have pembroke's word for it that lupus-waldsworth ever even existed. or v, for that matter.

untenable:
stained glass
sans lead.

5.
there was a body
on a sidewalk.
there were shapes and sizes.
there was a breathing.
there was a dripping.