I’m a big fan of beautiful red-haired cannibals
אברה (wingeater)
@wingeater.bsky.social
248 limbs/365 vessels angel gore recycling system; ash-grey feathers /not a girl/ https://wingeater.itch.io/ art by vich
(and you can see her before it pops and goes out blood-bright sodium)
spit-shined harnesswork— your slit eyelids in dyed strips, mounted in silver
eyedrops (:
me beneath my hands choking sprawling gouts of words with mucus and spite
i'm doing my best
pray with ornate bloods licked thin from slender angels cull-linger near me
stain of polychrome, dashed— coruscated on chafe-burnished brink of smoke,
trace breaking fingers guide fervent mutilations with your muttered prayers
,, i like the sounds you make
sound mildew's splendour through pale-scarlet conduit degradations' trace
name me in silence like a thousand parasites lashed to your name's sound
stain of polychrome, dashed— coruscated on chafe-burnished brink of smoke,
silver-chased frisson evenstrung melded copper; song, nacre-pooling;
elegaic birds blue-laced with tongues and terrors answer to verse-names
flow bright with your scent moon-cowled against its fading and sing —elegies
susurrus, limb-graced, dapples blackrot arteries to split dry bloodflow
reeds askew in teeth—mumbling unstable tones, hollow susurrus
salt-tongued cataracts—still, within narrow courses tangle twilight reeds—
promising willowbark tansy-bled, wormwood-sotted, unmarked, but by salt
skin-deep vestiges of old gowns, and older knots tied in promises
skin-deep vestiges of old gowns, and older knots tied in promises
wounds of gall-stark greys let seep their mull-clottings on her shaved-thin skin—
wounds of gall-stark greys let seep their mull-clottings on her shaved-thin skin—
bathed in harsh petals —along white-flank incisions, pirouette in wounds—
pool-slick opening coated, with errant moonbeams, in rough bismuth baths—
silver-chased frisson evenstrung melded copper; song, nacre-pooling;
forelimbs seven deep, losing track in each other— mutual-sweat limned,,
tangled confusion of pleasantly-aching limbs; which belong to who?
silver[] filaments[] pour through your mouth[] your[] drips[] vital[] the stars[] shivering
tangling in his long, power-line hair,
tangling in his latticework,