the little bird pecked gently at the sleeping man's face but he was too drunk to be woken. 'wake up sleepy man, im hungry and i am thirsty' chirped the little bird, but the man did not wake from his deep slumber. again and again the little bird tried but the man could not be woken.

the little bird pecks at the man's face harder and harder, he makes a small hole with his beak then starts to pull away the flesh. with a taste for blood the little bird put his head inside the hole, tearing away at the softer flesh within, pulling out the veins like worms from the soil.

the little bird, seeing his reflection in the man's eye, looks with interest at the glistening eyeball. he begins to peck at it until he gets a good hold, then starts to pull at it. using his whole body and a little flap of his wings he pulls the eye clear of its socket. the eye falls from the little bird's grip and rolls off the table down onto the floor.

the little bird sticks his head into the man's eye socket eating the soft and tender flesh inside. with its head bloody and his belly full, the little bird hops inside the socket and falls asleep.

outside the man's head the snow begins to fall, tucked up warm inside the man's eye socket the little bird watches the snow flakes fall; mesmerised by them he falls gently asleep to dream of many pleasant things: clouds, marshmallows and soft comfy beds.