Carol Opens the Window, then Closes it, then Opens it Again

Window clamped shut.

Such transparent.

Carol approaches.

Carol opens, opens, opens, opens, don't you dare call that tongue.

In flows a breath, a breath of bacteria, in flows a glance to the top part of his head that the window will approach.

"Don't you dare call that tongue!"

Carol closes that window, to take a bite from the stagnant air we've all been farting in for so many years.

She opens the window again, to see the jagged edges from the bite she took, a reminder of life in farts.

Gasps, the building.

Gasps, the Carol.

Don't you dare call that tongue.

When painting pictures, do not become confused your trees.

Carol flung apart her arms.

Everyone is not you. The top of your head had smears, so transparent.

Don't you dare call that tongue.