Cactus Dragon
Yes! Were the last/first words to come out of my mouth for an invariably long time. My palette was growing more and more tasteless by the minute.
By the minutia, I stopped being able to ascribe separation from appetizer, agnolotti, antipasta, or dessert even (anterior), which in my mind was beginning to pale in comparison to what eating used to be like before. I expect eventually that I will simply turn into sugar and dissolve down a sewer grate.
Tood Micheal: Blood Moon Rising (2021)
I felt like I was in the Balkans, balking, amusing myself at the prospect of being eaten much rather than eating myself. Flavor was now almost completely beyond me. Succulent moonlight was all that I had wanted to be drenched in. I would gladly offer my tongue, my teeth, and my throat (superior) so as to arrest all other artifices and soak up those mouthwatering moonbeams just one more time. But I digress . . .
I felt like I had just swallowed a cactus dragon. Heart burn was little enough to describe it; I had heart fire. When suddenly it is the dragon I see as I am in between a breath, flying high above and soaring through the ether, cloud-covered and prickly green, nettles and needles piercing through empty miles of sky with nothing to stab. I could have taken a glass and gulped. “In Arizona,” my sister tells me, she is attending a wedding there this weekend. Which reminds me that I needed to RSVP to Yadira’s wedding like, three days ago.