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------------------I have seen the dark universe yawning ---------------------------------Where the black planets roll without aim, Want (like it always does) gives way to need and then the need becomes this pinprick point inside her and it becomes something else. They coalesce into a single bright and vibrant thing inside her and it burns like a comet, hot enough to burn through an entire sea and leave only desert sand and dead sharks behind. Hunger. It tingles in her jaws and her teeth and her stomach feels like it's inverting upon itself in a tangle of organ-skin and acid. Her mouth could be made of rust for how quivers as it parts. Her teeth could be rusted razor blades for how dull their edges seem without the slick oil of blood to flow between them. Wormlust remembers how dry her lips feel when the mare subtly tries to mock her and when she watches that violent pulse of life throb at her neck and her legs and underneath her skin just out of reach. “I remember,” She says, and that other wing rises up to join the first until she's just a fury of wing and salt crusted skin And her jaw opens wider with each lift of her wings and her teeth seem like ancient and primal mountains that are hung from the sky instead of earth. The sun seems like such a small thing now, so far over those white and blue and ghastly wings. “I remember how to read secrets from between bone and sinew. I could read your blood like ink and write a eulogy of you.” Those flowers at her feet now seem almost horrific. They seem like prophecies, bits of death scatted about the earth for those wiser than mortals to read. Wormlust remembers how to read those too, how to read bones, rot and dead stars and know which world she must travel to then. She remembers so many things, so many secrets. But now all that is nothing more than the shadow of that bright and burning hunger that consumes and devours and gives nothing but nothingness back. It's the hunger that makes her rear towards sun as if she would devour up all the light of the world as well as the mare and still be hungry, still want and need and burn. “Would you like to learn?” She asks in a way that seems as wrong as the way her massive wings hold her in some place between the earth and the sky. And in that place between what is above and what is below, the silence after her words is shattered by the roar of her hollow and wanting stomach. monster of the sea |
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