Virtuous Rot

the flower unfurled in front of me and i swept my fingers up the outer petals to encourage it. nestled against the flesh in the center was a soft appendage which began to writhe towards my face, worming between the petals still curled towards the center, wet with dew. i pressed my thumbs against the head and pushed it within itself, letting it grow pink with the effort of resisting me. the man across the road lifted his head to watch us.

my teeth are blunt, sandpapered over decades of work. i sawed them back and forth across the rubbery skin until they finally caught and the taste of blood flooded into my mouth like cool water.