VI

This long buffalo must bend to fit into the room and snorts its charged breath against the automan its charged tangle of brown fur barbs and sparks like exposed lightbulbs and lightning coming nearer. Black clouds bust the windows and crash in shouting thunder at my petrification while the hot buffalo stinks and hoofs holes in the ground. He bucks, his eyes glow red as he thrusts them into mine, contorting to level his power at me and demands. The scorch of the lightning flashes against my face. The scorch is bottled in the freezer. The buffalo twists his purple scowl and blows living, wretched breath on my face, his horns gleam dimly in the violence of the cracks and he demands we split open the freezer and douse the flaming wicks licking up our spines. Lightbulbs shatter again and I mince the pieces, sweep them into a highball glass and pour eight fingers. The buffalo grows a size and the walls start to shudder, lightning swelling and pounding against them. He mauls the glass, takes it highball and all into his insatiable maw and chomps. Purple blood beads the thin lining of his purple mouth, I kneel and pull myself before him. The black clouds rumble and throw molten maelstrom harsh around the room, I wrap my arms around his head and squeeze the beast's face against mine, licking the blood from his tongue, fitting his jaw around my delicate, human kneck. I am drenced in spit and purple blood, lubricated for any mortal passage. His jaws mightily and slowly clench. The lightning begins to quiet. His fangs prick seven spots in my white flesh. A bolt strikes and ignites the floor. His tooth saws agains the mineral deposit, my spine. I am candle, he chomps down, and through, breaks my wick, saves me from the fire.

Burns Usher's house burns
Crinkles wallpaper
Crackles floorboords & beams
Bend, forests falter in face of
Fire. Me, ruin. He, ruin. We, ruin ruins ruins.
Pelt. Just pelt.

J.s.S