my bones are weak, they hurt, they’re sore

my bones are hallowed, my bones galore

white nutrients in liquid form

apparently, my bones transform

candle burning candle bright,

let me suck out all your light

kissing flames with muscle pink,

i did not think i did not think

fire fire in my bones

the burning sinks just like a stone

i wish i may i wish i might

wish upon your flame tonight

eat the spiders
when in doubt
spit them out

eat the fish
when they blink
let them sink

eat the birds
when they flutter
don’t stutter

eat the cows
when they moan
let them groan

eat the pigs
when they fight
kill them right

eat the dogs
when they’re rough
act tough

eat the cats
when they scratch
stick on a patch

eat the humans
when they scream
it’s just a dream

eat yourself
when you die
don’t say goodbye

how does it feel to be a monster

i want to pop out my bones
see how they glow
white in red
      how does it feel to be dead

i want to pop out your bones
see how your flesh can fold
how pretty you’d be
      blood fanning out, free

i want to pop out our bones
and glue them together
to see how they look
      meet me under the stars

let us unravel our veins
together, no pain

Here are just two metaphorical scenery writings. No prompt, just imagination.

Water fowl laughing at a long-heard joke. Angry waves licking hungrily at loose granules of glass. Feeling of fabricated silk beneath naked feet. An orange, waltzing breeze tousling fraying hair. Purple—a red-green-blue value of D8BFD8—cotton resting on blue sky. It cushions a red balloon, a perfect pie. No place to rather be; a paradise of yellows, blues, and other hues.

Earth and dirt and green surround. Arches of bark and leaves. Sounds of throat and legs and arms; wings aflutter in cool O. Gravel and soft pedals beneath white rubber. The whispers of tiny breaths echo through the calm. Calm. Everything is calm, quiet. In this perfect, emerald sanctuary.