Pink, drawn out tongue, sucking hard on a puddle of black tar.
That sickly sweet spice began a tradition of a tightly screwed up face.
Then, a bright light turned on.
Showing sections of ferocity, which was (at that particular time), also necessity.
Both quite right and sort of normal.
Not normality in a boring dress.
But normality as a foregone conclusion to the fact that, yeah, this is dead good.
Easily felled, so you are.
But I think I've gotten easily worse.
easily drawn.
easily found.
Definitely gone.
