nietzsche

Koi

I know there are others.
Other cat prowling scratch scratch
right up to his wooden heart
and lynx, bobcat grin in his
underlying message of cum and fame.
He lays me hard like a feline should be
not bread, not feather, not silk.
Paws spread wide pads drip red
over my shirt over my jeans
this little kitty went to the market
and killed the butcher.
Cheetah balance, run, hide.
I know he keeps them locked away
but no cage can hold this purring heart.
So he lays me hard
like a good girl
his rough tiger limbs
grind into my neck
held high over panther brow
claws release on Stonehenge cheek
and that little neck pops like
it was never meant to stay upright.
I have a tiger eye glimmer
and I know he sees the invitation
as madness cakes over my spread limbs
he reaches around and tells me
that he wishes all this were his
but I know, I know there are others.
Other flights of fancy, other punching bags,
cats to shred.
His metal lips move lifelike, but all I hear
is a deep growl.
He parades his work.
Delights with slick whisker grin
in the destruction he has caused.
I know there are others, younger animals, weaker
that are wandering paws, thorns, cunts
broken and bloody
through the forest, just like me.
Wishing, just little kitty wishes,
that he will re-emerge
and further crumble the bits that are left.

Just like me.
wishing, wishing,
Just like me.