I found the stitch buried between a bounty and a boar. We floated like wedded jaybirds down the white drifts amidst the cold and breathy sounds of billowing exhortations of life. We alighted on the ghastly aspects of our Mother’s gregarious graciousness and we gladly gloated glutted over gutted guts of green gibbous goobers. KILL ‘EM ALL.
Ah ha ha ha ha ha.
I danced like the waves across the sea, my steel talons finding purchase in their flesh and rending their sleeves from their bones, naughty naughty birds dressed in the plumage of violence and pity and pain. A tidal wave of blackened skin and ashen hair as we skipped past the shores of their neat little line and receded back to the woods of our Mother’s restless gray and white ocean. Our Mother’s hair shielded us from their poison spittle, their racing prickles gnawing into the strands and sinking their teeth deep into each smooth tress. We glided through her hair as tines in a comb, making like lice and inching up her locks till we sent our spittle of justice into their eyes. They cried and screamed their pleas as swift integrity removed their filthy breath from their filthy carriages and our Mother embraced them to be purified. She took them and soon she will eat their carriages so that her body may be nourished and their hungry cages will have some use to her.
We are her sword, we are the tip of her spear. We will cleanse the blighted land from the malfeasance. She will be immaculate from her teeth to her tones. We will scrub the muck from every pore with our righteousness until our debased breath is removed. Then her eyes and back will be closed from us, and we will drift like wisps until a passing glance disintegrates us into nothing; our feet and hands too soiled to rest in her bosom from all the cleansing, but she will be clean.
When we expire we will know that she is clean.
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