Monsters

she spun on her nitrogen heels. a whipping tail divergent. a patchwork of sexual chagrin and mechanical antipathy. a vicious carcass. The ghosts still circling. Tiny explosions. Their many catalysts arguing. Which had made it so.

Lying beside her lover. Pauses in her breath expose constant calculations. How far. How close. The impossible to determine difference between them. A series of feet moving beneath her. Worlds dying and being born again with every inch forward. A series of small catastrophes propelling this illusion of dust and bones. She crosses her legs. A detour in the journey. The destinations unchanged. The real determined by a grand confluence of chemicals and circumstance.

slipping into her hunger with a grin too eager. slinking out of it the same. the void devouring and digested. as casually as it was hunted.

she nudges the monster beside her. Consumed by his hungry growl. She tells her lover it's time to feed. Hurry. flesh and blood is scarce. and there are many more monsters than there are people eat.