bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones
the rattle roar of broken bones
Melita half-hoped he’d take some time for himself; to semblances of his own portions and pieces back. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on her part – his own place in the world had never seemed to much matter to him, nor any notions outside of the next impulsive maneuver. Leading a region certainly had its affects (Melita would never want to do it in a thousand years, despite Flora’s constant offers), but she also wondered if he was going to prefer to wallow, linger around the melancholy again and again.
Sighing and partaking in bludgeoning instead, the felled ningo earned a little ‘huh’ on her end, then a wicked grin. Afterwards, she watched as her uncle took aim at another dismissively dumb bird, the ice spikes and shards served as a crescendo of violence, marking and impaling, sending it on a spiral towards it deceased brethren. “All right, all right, one more,” she remarked, the influence and spirit of vehemence humming through her – and she liked to watch the ricochet of damage holstered from her own incantations. To be a weapon too, rather than relying heavily on the armaments in her grasp.
She selected another figment at the head of their stupefied line, and narrowed her eyes, taking a casual aim. The confetti fired into the air, launching with great regard and speed towards the ningo. There was an indignant, surprised squawk echoed from its beak, but afterwards, nothing but the plop of another body hitting the ground. The rest of the flock appeared either confused, bewildered, or unbothered.
Sighing and partaking in bludgeoning instead, the felled ningo earned a little ‘huh’ on her end, then a wicked grin. Afterwards, she watched as her uncle took aim at another dismissively dumb bird, the ice spikes and shards served as a crescendo of violence, marking and impaling, sending it on a spiral towards it deceased brethren. “All right, all right, one more,” she remarked, the influence and spirit of vehemence humming through her – and she liked to watch the ricochet of damage holstered from her own incantations. To be a weapon too, rather than relying heavily on the armaments in her grasp.
She selected another figment at the head of their stupefied line, and narrowed her eyes, taking a casual aim. The confetti fired into the air, launching with great regard and speed towards the ningo. There was an indignant, surprised squawk echoed from its beak, but afterwards, nothing but the plop of another body hitting the ground. The rest of the flock appeared either confused, bewildered, or unbothered.
the honeybee
Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw
angry, wild, and raw
