These are my writings. Ideally, these are the most honest expressions of myself that I could give.
by Shaun Terry
Boiled flesh lies,
in a bowl of broth.
Her spoon fills with gelatin, cartilage, and filaments of musculature,
as she giggles at a strip of Calvin and Hobbes
in her daily paper.
She sucks up the corpse, the memories, the emotions,
the tao that cannot be named.