bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones
the rattle roar of broken bones
Icy and watery pinnacles weren’t the Honeybee’s usual fanfare and flare, but she’d take the bedlam and vehemence wherever it was required. Avians flew and died and it must’ve been a merciless, unrelenting sight to see.
Enough to send Melita in a laughter as another tailspun, caught in either ice shards and arrows or flooding decibels. An array of dictated action and consequence, but finding all of it fruitful. “One more,” she announced, though it was striving to make an escape down the corridor, distracted by the rise and subsequent fall of its brethren. And she gave chase, notching another arrow, waiting, waiting, waiting for the right opportunity, until she could send it rallying and volleying and dying.
Enough to send Melita in a laughter as another tailspun, caught in either ice shards and arrows or flooding decibels. An array of dictated action and consequence, but finding all of it fruitful. “One more,” she announced, though it was striving to make an escape down the corridor, distracted by the rise and subsequent fall of its brethren. And she gave chase, notching another arrow, waiting, waiting, waiting for the right opportunity, until she could send it rallying and volleying and dying.
the honeybee
Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw
angry, wild, and raw
