the plastic fruit centerpiece liquifies with the striking
vanity of perfume, a grotesque malodor, sweetly brewed with
malice, spite, and witchcraft’s vengeance. flowing
gracefully in waves like small whiffs of gut wrenching
vulgarity the submission communicated with the wickedness of
that singular utterance. inciting an emotional eruption
seething with rage and yet confused and lost mingling with
an intensely profound sense of speechlessness. i stand there
a moment disgusted, where is this paradigm leading? i never
found out, i died