Bull

Birchwood tentacles
encase crooked branches.
Green hands rot beneath slush muck, crushing crunchy roots below.
Cranberry essence soaks travel garments, blood pumping shattered horns impaling you.
Lunar paradise carresses longing flesh, promising bountiful pleasures. Bow to Bull, offer tender flesh for safe travel.  Rouge velvet gets you flayed.
Curved horns impale trespasser guts, snapping off torn torsos, lording mineral mountains.
Crystal towers distort earthly vision, cut bleeding palms, and spill bitter wine to the lord of the whimsical.
Mine moon rocks, swim neptune lakes, climb crooked mountains and reach utopian tips.