Katalin Pusztaszeri

I am taking it back...like retracting the gliding saliva down on my palate reaching the edge of my lips under the blazing polyester mask I had been imprisoned daily.

Or could I be that jerk to pushing the mask down and let the mucus bubbling out, diffusing vertically in the air then left it landing on the ground like splashed mussel gills on a frying pan in Balkan style?

I could play coy behind myself...knowing the fact that spitting out the toxic waste is the easiest way to get rid of the actual grungy problem packs...however I restrain the need of releasing the gobs by keeping them back where those belong to.

I had been keeping and swallowing my own drivel for years now... my rage has been rising from time to time and the fury is slopping over to my personal environment every day...like steamy spice foam particles spat out from a boiling soup. What a hot mess!

Imagine a domineering apex predator, the Komodo Dragon hiding back in an ambush swallowing her own empty sputum instead of satisfying her own needs...running after and catching her preys, empoisoning them by biting out their throats then opening up the bodies with her sharp saw-like mouth and gobbling up large chunks of the savory raw flesh she acquires day by day.

If this carnivore beast is forced to leaving back her own predator temper to gorge and maintain herself or simply constrained to lose her natural instinct for keeping herself alive while awaiting in her cache motion- and motivation less eternally...that imaginary scene could slowly turn into a tragedy...

Big games should not be deemed to starve forever, they grow immediately savage!
A SAVAGE DOES NOT WANT ANYTHING, SHE CLAIMS!

If she haven't got her life back for so long...that is going to impose serious, life-threatening consequences.

She is going to fight, maul, lacerate, guzzle and finally leave bits and pieces... on the ground.