sept. 14th, 2009 free write

the yellow blood of butterflies seeping over the concrete clanking, screaming machine killing everything in its path. hummingbirds, bees, and whales, lie on the street, as their corpses soak up the butterfly's blood. these is only one survivor. a proud, ancient tiger, now thin and weak, stumbles through the mess. all of his brothers and sisters have starved to death, and to here he stands. concrete for miles around. once a parking lot-no, once a forest. not even cars left now. just the lonely tiger, staring at the victims of the genocide, his feet sticky with butterfly blood. F***ing fascist humans, he thinks, as a dodo floats by on a stream of the yellow and red muck. the sky is gray above-a huge empty sky which was once full of leaves. the tiger can't breathe. he lies down in the blood, just for a moment...just for a moment...