Float

There I went falling into the black. They say it's because of dark energy. The color. That things should be grayer without it. I don't know about that, but I know about floating. Space is buoyant, like salt water. Time is a current: sometimes turning deadly, sometime benign; like thoughts. So I float. I float away, ignoring gravity: that's easy out here. They say you can survive in open space for a small while, if you empty your lungs first. Cursed air: oxygen, nitrogen, argon. They look the same to me from this position. This is nature. Always wanting to kill you. Nature is the enemy. Nature is entropy. Always looking to blend extremes. Not too much time left. I guess. I'll miss the sun and the warmth most. I imagine not being warm or cold, but kind of in between. Always a little colder than ideal. Never warm enough. I shiver. The frost is here in the shade, but then I melt in the sun.

Is it time for sleep?

hunter

fantastic and rough i follow the road ever running down the stream of breath and life and the scent of blood, I am tracking now, I seek the flesh of those wild, my instinct leads me off the beaten game trail, into the scraggy, dense, undergrowth.

close, wounded, and frightened my prey is near, slowing now as blood loss brings them surely toward the end, I want the meat fresh though, I want the last beat of the heart in my teeth, capturing their strength and soul.

I hear a shuffling in the branches, I wait gently sniffing the air for the strong metallic scent of blood on the breeze, as I slowly turn my head back towards my origin, that heady smell comes my way, and then a low rustle,

instantly my muscle contract and release and I am airborne sharp teeth ready for the kill and revel in the moment.