By Bruce Dries
Has our gnawing awakened thee? Its noise is dim to us, yet thou press at thine eyes as if trying to reach through, to pull us away from our feast. Ah, writhe and moan sweet pet, we greet the rising moon again as twins, unbound and unborn, dreamer and seer. Thy nails scratch the flesh so to join with ours, but we have scratched far longer, digging out to meet thy frantic scrabblings.
See how thy sight pulses red? Hear how our jaws resound in thine ears? Oh, thou cannot cause it to cease. Cover us, but only amplify our deeds! Ah, but yes thou can stand and stagger from the fetid sheets to gaze slack-jawed and rheumy-eyed at thy visage upon the wall. Behold thy face; peer close, closer, look deep into thine eye to see what twists and chews on its inner rind. Canst thou see us? Canst thou hear us? Ay, we already know, thy breached senses exposed to our whims.
Oh, the rolling in the sockets, hear them grind as we cling to the swinging spheres! Cast them down, see the distant hands grasping the enameled scum, lying amidst the wreckage of plastic and glass and steel in thy wretched refuge. A moan (oh delight), and more! What feeling is this, thine utterance? Yes, shout and defy us, yet still we gnaw and shred the delicate flesh, bathing amidst the tendrils of sweet pulsing agony quivering through thy skull.
A focus? We are still as the gleam of razored steel warmly flashes. Reach for its length, yes, know its edge. See! It is magic, wondrous the red trail that springs into life on thy palm. Its crevasse beckons, calls for us to be near.
We gasp, claws sinking deep as lightening surges! Thou threaten? Dost thou believe? Canst thou evict us? Try, oh gallant prey, purge us from thy flesh. Yes, see the ease with which the blade parts flesh away from bone. Down, down it cleaves, baring thine arm elbow to wrist. Oh the flow, the hot sweetness of our life. Yes, it is us, all of us pulsing over the hanging flap, quivering in the liberated shreds, revealed in our bareness of the chipped white gleam.
Still we cling; we are not slowed, rather quickened, pulling whole pieces out from behind thy lids, rending them between thine ears. The savior steel hesitates in its course, its vibrations akin to thine howls.
What noise joins thee? What warbled squeal of gibberish intrudes on thine ululation? We whirl, grace in hand to sight the horrid carline, cavernous mouth agape, emitter of shrieking sacrilege! Silence to thee! We deliver our judgement: release her! Her shrieks are ours, our extinction hers. Save her, salvage her soul to join ours! Lay bare the inner wastes to escape as we! Follow her down, see the joy of salvation buckle her knees. Bathe her in the warmth of our deliverance, her fading wail our cry of joy.
Thus, we tire. Listless jaws merely hold fetters of peeled flesh, untasting now. Claws loosen, our grasp slips. We sit beside our bride, our destinies mingle in bright pools of madder. The savior, no longer needed, slips from our grasp. At last, peace approaches, the silent roar that grows and overwhelms, burying the light and pain in ecstatic eclipse.
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