Rolling grumble review.
Maggots on the kitchen floor –a shifting desert of ants hording over them.
Wiggling little faceless babies eaten alive by teems of black specs.
Somehow I feel like this was psychic manifestation –all of the bile being vomited out in the words of two seemingly good people.
Seemingly.
Good.
People.
"And here we have plump white larvae". Take your share.
