“the sirens, though they sing to mariners, are not sea-maidens, they dwell on an island in a flowery meadow. lolling there in their meadow, round them heaps of corpses rotting away, rags of skin shriveling on their bones.” they leave their flower streaked meadowes for cracked concrete - the modern world. they were once anthropophagus, in the days of old. their stomachs were full, stretched to bursting. their mouths were full, hot and metallic. it dribbled down their chin. it’s been years upon years since they fed themselves that way. stomachs heave until they’re empty. times have changed, they can’t go back to the way things were.
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