My god is dead.

His voice is lost to me as I move into him, at him, around him. It passes over me like nothing other than the air I breathe - were I aware it would have sparked an interesting though. Can you breathe words? Do they fill your lungs differently than air? Will all of our talking, all those words, eventually displace the air and clutter the comfortable silence of death with pointless chatter?

Perhaps my next scholarly adventure will be to suck down the screams of someone to see just how different it feels in my lungs.

With each jerk of my head I can feel the cool slide of the feathered shafts drifting in and out of my mouth. They roll across my tongue at times, poking against my gums at others, one even causes a small bit of bleeding, but that only enhances the experience as my copper flavor dances against my tongue. It's all an intoxicating, invigorating, incident that only fuels my frenzy with each progressing success. I would have laughed if I had any time to spare, but my neck is a stream of constant motion driving my head back and forth, my teeth clamping and releasing in a perfect rhythm of mutilation.

The turkey struggles and gobbles and flails about, his wings at times wrenching away from my close proximity, but I'm on him. Literally I'm on him as one of my limbs in my madness has hooked his withers, keeping him against me as if he were an insolent child being pressed into the bosom of his furious mother.
Take your punishment my mind demands, all the while controlling the click, click, c l i c k of my teeth as they slide over the odd sensation of his wings. Feathers are like nothing else I can describe. You cannot compare them to much other than each other, such is their unique property.
It drives me into a lust, aching to feel them all over my body.

It's in this moment, when I sit on the height of my scientific discovery, that the turkey's terror manifests into something more, organized. I am reminded with a sudden dread that I am not dealing with a true bird, but a pegasus. A pegasus which is stronger than me. A pegasus whom's intelligence lingers near my own, if not matches in its own way.

A turkey I could deal with, a pissed off warrior bird-horse is another matter.

He lashes out at me with his teeth and he weight and it strains my hooked leg which was already uncomfortable and tests my balance which was already teetering. More than that though, he rips my mane like an over-excited drunkard caught in the need for his hooker's bare bosom to be exposed. That shirt costs more than your life!
I screech like a harpy, the feathers fluttering around me only adding to the effect. The pain I feel is nearly on equal with my shame as my perfect body is marred by the chunk of missing mane and the bloody triangle exposed on my black dress. I finally halt my maddening plucking, but as I attempt to reel away from him my leg remains stuck. I yank and yank upon the stupid thing, nearly wild in my shrieking as my fury transitions into something more like fear, something I rarely feel. The panic thuds in my ears as my heart doubles its beating, the sound deafening to me.

In my mind, I'm not stuck, but he's holding me. He's keeping me. Oh Oblivion he's going to try and kiss me and poke me with his ugly chicken dick!

My head thrashes around and my body twists, flopping down on the ground like an alligator death roll gone wrong. My leg finally slips off his back with a sickening sound. It's only fractured, the angle I took as I rolled to my right helping it come free, but the abrupt drop of my weight still stressed the bone before it was in the clear.

I don't even notice.

Perhaps its the kind cushion of his feathers nestled under my head that lulls me into a bliss, or perhaps, and more likely, it's the rage budding in my chest at the indecency he showed at trying to rape me. Either way I rise suddenly, and with me, so does the dead.

A squirrel, recently drowned int he stream, comes flying out of the waters and heads straight for his nearest leg to climb up it and harass his head, perhaps thinking one of his eyes a tasty nut to chew on.
From behind him a mountain lion's cub that hadn't survived long after birth, left to rot beyond the den, crawled its way out of the dirt that had begun to pile upon it and raced to bite at his back pasterns.

And I, I am there too. I strike out with teeth and tears at his neck, aiming specifically for his throat, but I recede as fast as I come in. I truly have no interest in tangling up with him again, but I wanted to get one last hit in.

"That'll teach you to watch where you stick your cock," I hiss, my lips scrunching up so my teeth are exposed at rest. My orange eyes, still a lighted fire of fury, watch my minions do their bidding.

// Baby d o l l I recognize
// you're a hideous thing inside