EAT BABIES? is fourteen fiery kilograms of blood, skin and teeth. Pustules alight with pleasure, nodes pulsating with joy it breathes in the thick, heavy air of my bedroom. EAT BABIES? Is a diary, a journal and a glass jar filled with organic matter pinched from my flesh. Some of it is oily corn-dog rising to the surface. Some of it is blood drawn thick and painfully from the backs of my knees. EAT BABIES? has its own lungs, and it breathes.