Making the world a little stranger
We all lose something precious to us.
A neck that can fit many fingers.
The great beast falling up.
Scrub your soul pure. Harshly. Blood is a mark of your fleshy impurity.
Goo sliding over crooked teeth.
Do electric sheep dream of you?
A monstrous mass of meat tubes.
From the world of Otherlings & Elsewheres - A story of spiders and spinners