Oh the stench! How I salivate with great anticipation; gathering my patience, for the final pumice of soil to be carved into, so that I may feast on this unused tissue; on this unpalpitating core. Allowing my terrestrial army to maneuver through, this phalanx of decay and parasitic neighbors, but how the aroma can attract more, than just the commonest of larvae; I’ll never fathom. Arriving punctually, at the wine vats… I notice it has been substituted with vessels of pungent preservatives; a decorate parfait of gelatinous waste. I am extremely famished for this unresolved matter; for this starch, bone blacked morsel of rotten fruit . Burrowing, harrowing,..excavating this treasure. I have ingested the tossed earth, in order to arrange the ultimate banquet.. inflating my wounded corpse.

by James Ayala