When I go down
On my knees at your feet
You should not feel soothed

I am taking something that matters to you between my teeth

Your fingers should cling to the sheets
In ecstatic gratitude
For the magnitude of difference
Between my feral appetite
And my frail frame

It may be a service
When they do it
But if you hear me choke
Know that I am more famished than my means

If my form
Were as massive as my hunger
And my mouth as colossal as my want
I would crush your beautiful body
Upon the thirty-two jagged peaks that line my jaws

I want to consume every inch of you
Cast you into the ravenous need in my gut
But though my desire is bottomless
My body is merely human

And there is only so much pleasure
I can take

Theodore Hill is a trans, queer, Jewish writer and notorious bite risk who lives somewhere in the United States. His work is primarily horror and has been published by Cosmic Horror Monthly, Fraidy Cat Quarterly, The Skull & Laurel, A Coup of Owls, and more. You can find him online at www.theodorehill.weebly.com or follow him on Bluesky @probablyharmless.bsky.social if you’re into that sort of thing.