🔥🥯🥯 HOT KOTZ BUNS 🥯🥯🔥 at BSMNT, Leipzig

Dripping candles filled the mouth softly and jiggly. Cold the mouth searches to hold the rock while

— oh while what?

Have you not just said something?

Irritated you turn away while at the same time you’re pulled toward a soft and smooth leathery thing. Grease drips in between the lines of your hand. Drops of a brown viscous mass finds the lake of its others. It over floats while the lines of your hand are flooded by the same brown grease. It covers your skin, finds its way over the body. Your body. It drops. It drips. It floats its own streams. It builds its own strings.
Follow it a voice says.

The hand empty while your mouth gets filled with a sweet humbled silky cream. It splits out on your tongue, finds a hole, enters it and drips down. Down through the body. Flesh gets coated by it. Flesh becomes it. Flesh that is the table offerings of its becoming.

What did you just say?

Dark gray drums enter the ears. You stay there, quietly. Quietly? You touch out into the room —
shining red balls eyes grasping. Vulva flower growing through a veins ground. How did the spring not just smelled of virginity. Flesh. Table. Flesh.
You? Quietly shining. The tongue? Slimy sweet. The body, your body, their body, a body, flesh. Out of there is an edgy finger pointing. It looks into your eyes. It looks through it as the faces becoming, what makes it slippery. What makes to turn your guts outside out. Of all of me?
Oh, come into my mouth, oh come.

What did you just say? I think I lost the string. I think, i’m lost.

You there, there me. Sweet the throat filled from what once was. You
hang there. Covered from it. It which isn’t locatable and still it is. A matter of its matter. Filled the room and the candles burn down, down as it is erased.