(no subject)
Some tangles are made to be by blade or cunning unknotted, but crawling through your vast terrains one occasions to discover thick cords pulsing unbidden electric, throbbing centres from which errant vines traversed by only those explorers swinging with small knives and fingers subtle in the art of the critical juncture crawl furry spider-legged and -monkeyed. From hidden grottoes deep within wafts the stench of rotting flesh and here are the innumerable strata and caste and classification, a hundred teeming variables lush in every shade of chrome and neon:
Days, light comes down green, but when the day goes out and the howling starts and you finally sleep, what comes down then is a thing that will trade your blood for fever dreams.
And here a rumbling smoky beast with a chattering thing hungry in its skull.
You will never see the big cat, for it has only ever been a myth.
And, look there is the cancer. A sideways way of walking creates slick trails almost impossible for the predator to follow, so in this way too it is similar to the men in suits. Just ever so gently cracking open the carapace one may tilt back the head and lick out the salty organs for sustenance.
And on and on, this animal architecture.
You said you didn't suppose it was really as dense as all that was it, and I said no, perhaps not, but still gripped the chain.
You said stop but meant something entirely elsewise, so I yanked until I could trace the topography of your blades, until Burton discovered hidden in the recesses the White Nile's font and Humboldt's cosmos fell to floor in bits and Speke's rifle misfired and by cannibals Stanley was eaten and returned to the earth as three flower petals, a peach pit, and several sunflower seeds.