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What lies behind your teeth, your mouth?

Saliva spills from the corners of chapped lips and onto the Chicago dance floor.

The warehouse is packed with bodies, ravenous and clamoring for a taste of tropical ooze straight from the DJ booth.

Here, Jeremiah Meece gnaws on a mouthful of deep house while distant, synthesized screams echo and fade into the mix.

The crowd grows hungrier with each electronic pulse, each driving bassline, and each taunting reminder that only the producer can satiate their desire for the full song.

You’re at the mercy of Meece, so pray you get a piece; he can feel it in his teeth, his mouth.

Written by
Katie Manners

What lies behind your teeth, your mouth?

Saliva spills from the corners of chapped lips and onto the Chicago dance floor.

The warehouse is packed with bodies, ravenous and clamoring for a taste of tropical ooze straight from the DJ booth.

Here, Jeremiah Meece gnaws on a mouthful of deep house while distant, synthesized screams echo and fade into the mix.

The crowd grows hungrier with each electronic pulse, each driving bassline, and each taunting reminder that only the producer can satiate their desire for the full song.

You’re at the mercy of Meece, so pray you get a piece; he can feel it in his teeth, his mouth.

Written by
Katie Manners

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Marine Snow
Marine Snow