sonic, sonic i yell to sonic who is running at the speed of sound. dying at the speed of sound. dying as he is running at the speed of sound, beyond the speed of sound, as air friction burns holes through the surface of his skin at the area of contact. his body and the air, becoming one, melting, mending, rendered upon one another. disintegration of flesh, shuddering and shrinking in the way of a comet through its way down the stratosphere. knee joints popping asunder, torso ripped away from feet at the junction of the thigh bone
he is always falling towards space
A BALL OF WHITE-HOT FLAME TEARING ITSELF APART
sonic, sonic
no!
C
WHYD ID Y O SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS TOOOOOOOO MMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEE