Gwyllgi howl at night, you ever hear it, make your skin curl up and fall off. He eats the lions from the lions' den. He got furnace eyes for some of you now. People don't pet him and they don't pet me.
Stop wagging your black tongues or I'll wag mine. Morning darkness is the best, dissolves into a pallid, burnt orange daylight, red rivers and cobalt lakes crack open from sadness.