My fingers touch the tiny shards of broken glass as they glisten in the dirt. They pick them up one piece at a time and place them gently so gently around your sleepy head. Dipping my forefinger into a pool of oil from which my reflection peers from so wearily and drunk, I mark your face with tribal scars and want so very much to have you and to make you mine, but now hardly seems the time. As the animals watch from the cover of darkness, I shift and change and slip between the layers and when you wake and grab my hands and pull me close the act is familiar yet altogether new and wonderfully strange. You bite my chest and bring the rain. You shake and summon the spirits of those that have gone before, and when the moon emerges from behind a sea of clouds, I can see your body in all its fleshy sin causing me to clamp my teeth down on my tongue hard so hard that it draws blood. Just the sight of it is enough to summon my rage, but the colour of your lips transfixes me, and when you blink your eyes you pull me in, and before I have a chance to react I wave goodbye to the confines of my hollow bones. Picking up a single shard of glass, I place it within your mouth and tell you to swallow, and just like that, you begin your side of the change. The animals, they stand on their hind legs waiting for what follows next, and as you shift between the layers and your whiskers sprout and vibrate, I’m kneeling there in the nude with my cock pointing at the stars excited yet fearful of what you’ll become. Next to yours, my body is junk, but there’s no denying what you do to me, and even though I’m ugly, there’s beauty in the energy you cause. There’s beauty in your storm. At the end of my cock, a little seed drips out, and when you wipe it with your finger and bring it to your lips, the animals move a little closer. In the tiny paws and animal noses, they can sense that underneath our skin, really, we’re just like them.