Wild Berry Meadow you swallow me, i'm a pill on your tongue

she was a gnarled, ugly scar in direct comparison to the kaleidoscope of flora that lay before her.  every petal that brushed her, every pastel dream that whispered too close withered under her footfalls.

the sun crept up from the horizon, shadows elongating under its glare; a fiery halo shrouded the woman as she crept along the berries and bushes, aiding her sinister mien.

the scent of something putrid caught her attention as it wafted gently across the meadow, stomach-turning in a sickly sweet way.  mindlessly, she made her way towards it and as she drew close, plumes of breath betrayed the slumbering man.

delicately, she danced circles around his sleeping form, slow and meaningful, as she scented deeper — scents of women crept from his pelt, semen dripping out of rotting flesh — and although something in the most feral part of her brain screamed run, run, run, she instead continued her dance, one-two-three, in-out-in.