Into the abyss, thunder with no lightning, and sudden fractures in my chest. Skull cracking, lost in thought, the killing, the growls, and foamy leftovers—cracking, crunching nirvana, head spinning, and the sharp punctures. Lying still, my travels, my blood puddle, and dried, dark eyes askew. I can see my brain.
Breathing in the blackness. Damp and dank, the lumbering beast is a vegetarian, with the fragrance of fertile dirt and one shard of sober sunlight showing matted brown fur.
In this cave, I'm cold. Mushrooms and slick walls of stone. The bear. She has babies, and they are curious about me. Full circle, evening, and twilight gray.