Sweven

C-Wing
Sawbones swerve and c-wing patients test my patience. Time is a decrepit snake, slitering on and on and on... until a tender turns up. She dumps a tangle of threads onto the bed. They are the tatters of the dead. And now they all are mine.

Switched
Mirror, mirror, little mantis. Let us play a game. You swerve, I swerve. You step, I step. You pray, I pray. Let us see if friendship follows. DRIFT. Souls shift. And now I am magnificent. See through compound eyes. Behold the fleshy, foul creature across, caught without a prayer. Feel the insatiable urge to eat the twinkle from its eyes. Delicious despise.