bark burning, scintillating, fiery furor.
there we go, fleeting, flying.
gong-whams and Teslan-whirls
shock us off our feet.
bristle-brackened twine ropes,
engross you in a viny prison-
sucked through the chambers of Berstuk
you ricochet into the void.
the great horned thaumaturge
grins and grapples,
piercing your heart, your great
Bleed, bleed, then you will be empty.