February 12, 2015

“It rained meat and red and warm. I was the first to witness the fall. I spread my hands and collected the wet. I drank what was sour. I bit what was dank. I had an appetite larger than a flood. I had no mother or father. I was the only. I was alone. I was covered in scales but they might have been scars. That meat rained for days. It accumulated on the ground, in divots and holes. It puddled. It pooled. When I tired of its pouring, I opened my mouth, widened my gullet. I took in the meat that was, that would one day be, which was gleaming and brutal and toothed. I could not eat the meat alone. I stood amidst a flood of it.”


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