I have no desire to be wild, but if I must--

[Eluoh]

"I can feel you here,"
he crept into the dead drum of
my ear, and I crushed my fingers into
the left of his ribs and sought for anything
from that hound: no blood spoor
to glut the appetite.

Two more beers, child, and you'll be
flowers
bleeding the pollen of a harlot
and he'll be the
bees.

(in hindsight)
Mother warned me about this.