Do You Still Like Us?

fury pours forth, a steaming heat only adding to the already humid, thick and dripping aire. “Shut ya trap birdie, you’re screeching is burning up the place, dummy!” the lizard’s laughter pours thick as red bleeds bright and red hot, thick through the bird’s being, rage and rage and rage upon rage floods forth, razor, thick talons shredding wood, vine and steaming, clinging, supple moss in it’s furious pursuit of weak, supple flesh. “You’ll never dig deep enough you silly fool!” the lizard’s too pleased laughter pushes the moment hard, harsh, real. the bird cannot win. the bird hates this moment, but has no way to understand their utter disappointment and utter hopelessness. the bird falters, in self. “Do not despair you silly thing, you are a bird and I am a lizard. Today I win and gloat, but tomorrow maybe, maybe something different. Today you lost, but you did not die.” the gesture is beyond the bird, who can only shake their head and lose fury, this goes beyond capacity. the bird breaths deeply as they bl