Bestomomentos II
but I then I finally found my refuge in this cave, where my hallowed noises could wimper. They became miracoulsy flooded and defeated by the deafening of an unexpected cue, a maliased hum rendered in shadows, enveloping me - I became its subaltern. I relinquished my own pining self-propriety, breathless, as I let it birth me, breed me, I was its toy creature. I could fold this skin, layer upon layer, into a crinklely sponge to hover and destroy, thaw, unwelcome silence par my moisture. I lunged long bony legs, letting them extended into contract to create the most fantastic angles. My arms could sag and endure as I maneuvered between the rocks, determined to fill any uncomfortable void. My beak was crooked, my tail stiff and sharp. I honed, curdled and then sliced any unwanted interjections, through a peculiar slit-orfice. I often wished it could speak, but that slobbering opening on at the midsection of my third and last leg never said a word. It would rather collect and process ill-thought words, sending them back through my crumpled intestines, which could aptly expand like ballons to accomdate any bulking terror. I would wiggle often, believing a discomfort in your own skin builds character. But I would fight day and night, to heave-ho and catch up with him, the knight of the forest, my creator. Even as I splattered, coo-ed, flew, shed, pawed, shivered, wept, it seemed that everyday my existence became better forgotten. I was confined to that moment, an animal without the luxury of any ingrained migration habit. Footprints would do me no good. Between who I’d birthed and who’d birthed me, these animals and I were strangers.
