The innocence of a fur darker than
any onyx, yet fur was softer than any silk,
woven upon a abomination of existence.

           The purr was a melody of paper cuts,
bleeding its victim unto a sleep of deathly
peace, but they had an alternate motion.

For when the lacerations on the mind
seeped the illusion of slumber did true
intensions manifest and it did feed..

                  It would kiss upon the lips,
inhaling not breath but life, tasting it
deeply, it purred as what was youthful
now cradles in the lullaby of death.

         But there were a litter of ravens
calling of bereavement, each purring on
this night. Their melody sinking the living
in to the purgatory of nothingness, till
these felines expelled their gift.

         The pumpkins that with every exhale
lit some what brighter, till they were full.
The gateway was open for that of otherworldly
desires breathed through orange flesh.

A smile once inanimate now had life,
              Where once only a head once looked,
now over oak bones did the flesh of orange
spread. Where just a light of candles lingered
slowly been extinguished,
           Thought became clearer, as a cats melodic
meows did sing to this moment that it had inhaled.

When all was consumed features changed,
orange became like subtle tan. And with wide eyes
open it breathed its first breath. Blinking upon
existence, now vacant hollows glimmer.

                It looked down, seeing its subordinate.
They were linked from this day, for if this nights
creation were to be injured, the breath of another
taken by its onyx cat could heal.

But if this cat ever passed the road of death,
then what had been gifted with others moments
would be but inanimate once more.

           A pumpkin with a shattered smile dead...
But the worst is yet to come for if those years weren't
used up. Then life would be returned from once it
was stolen, and the buried scream loudly.

But when your buried no one hears your screams
but the dead.. And if for ones cremated, have you
ever heard the wind scream..
         So this little kitten is the life of every pumpkin,
filled with the fleeting moments of life.

And you'll always see a lightly tanned man stoking
his cat on the porch but watch his smirk..
For a pumpkin is only as good as its smile.
And when he does it lingers of inhaled death...