The Chewers

All around me the spitslop chomp of chewers 

Chained to chairs squirms wetly in my ears. 

Structured food, messmashed into brown boli 

Sucks against the cracks and bumps of teeth 

In the purple dark

Where lubed and muscular tongueslugs,  

Shining between bites, urge the nuzzled lumps 

To their next crushing.

Between muddy coloured jowls and gaping gullets, 

Pulsing with languor, the solid world ground 

Down to something useful.