03-07-2022, 07:27 PM
I can see through you, see your true colors
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
There is nothing but the cool darkness against his scales.
Nothing but varying shades of gray and shadows seen through those slitted pupils set in bright red diamond eyes.
A tongue tests the air, forked and thin.
This way. A sixth sense that seems to speak to that overwhelming hunger.
This way. This way.
This way.
The rustle of dry crumpled leaves. The soft hiss of breath. Gold and black, smooth and damp. Thick chorded muscles that curl and extend.
This way. This way.
This way.
There is never enough. Fangs slipping through buttery skin, gushing blood, snapping bones. It's not enough, it never ends.
The craving intensifies, that tongue darting quickly, sensing for direction. And there, in the corner of a bloody eye, there is the light in the shadows. He can’t make out its shape, blurry but warm. Oh so very warm. He can smell the blood. Warm, wet, dewy.
Fresh.
It wants it. It craves it,
It needs it.
With a hiss the large serpent coils around and on itself, raising its slick ebony head over the blurry shape. A deer, a fresh kill. Where was its hunter? Why had the feast been abandoned? That forked tongue tentatively tastes the air again, looking for a threat. When it finds none, it lunges for the bleeding corpse, for the sweet release to this never-ending hunger.
Nothing but varying shades of gray and shadows seen through those slitted pupils set in bright red diamond eyes.
A tongue tests the air, forked and thin.
This way. A sixth sense that seems to speak to that overwhelming hunger.
This way. This way.
This way.
The rustle of dry crumpled leaves. The soft hiss of breath. Gold and black, smooth and damp. Thick chorded muscles that curl and extend.
This way. This way.
This way.
There is never enough. Fangs slipping through buttery skin, gushing blood, snapping bones. It's not enough, it never ends.
The craving intensifies, that tongue darting quickly, sensing for direction. And there, in the corner of a bloody eye, there is the light in the shadows. He can’t make out its shape, blurry but warm. Oh so very warm. He can smell the blood. Warm, wet, dewy.
Fresh.
It wants it. It craves it,
It needs it.
With a hiss the large serpent coils around and on itself, raising its slick ebony head over the blurry shape. A deer, a fresh kill. Where was its hunter? Why had the feast been abandoned? That forked tongue tentatively tastes the air again, looking for a threat. When it finds none, it lunges for the bleeding corpse, for the sweet release to this never-ending hunger.
obscene
*Currently in shifted state as a very very giant black mamba type snake. Mood: Hunting*
![[Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/fTkjKh9Q/Obscene-Pixel.png){kind=tracking}