I was going to bring my pet hamster tonight.
Anyone met my pet hamster - Picasso?
He is an impressionist.
No, honestly he does all the other rodents :-
Mice, rats, capybara, Donald Trump, Prince Andrew, all of them.
Unfortunately I couldn't bring him,
because he died this afternoon.
He fell asleep at the wheel.

Gray blur in my periphery
Imagination or something real?
Mystery solved within the hour
2nd gray form traveling far

Home no longer sacrosanct refuge
Peace and relaxation a distant concept
Startled shrieks upon their bold forays
Pervasive worry over their next sortie

Fearful defense setting full of trepidation
Will my fingers or their necks be snapped?
Is electrocution—more humane?
Or are they too obese to fit in the tunnel?

How long will this battle perpetuate?
Will the small hordes or large singularity win?
Will peaceful repose ever be possible again?
Or always interrupted by rustling, shrieks, and blurs?

Only at night do they come out of the underground, of their ***** creeks 
And is in darkness that they truly thrive in. 
Waiting for the awakening, 
They don't sleep.

Quietly waiting for the sun to set,
So they can fully rejoice eating each other's flesh.

You can almost feel the desperation in their hisses watching as the moon becomes their God,
Worshiping the darkness as it embraces and consumes the above.

Anxiously anticipating the souvenirs of the night,
Savoring how they will carve and engrave each other's eyes.

In plain daylight, you can almost smell the poignant stench they bathe on,
As they helplessly conceal the guilt from their nocturnal hunts.

As the city lives they remain thirsty animals, among their own, among cannibals.
And only when scarce shadows pace the empty streets,
Do they indulge in it for what it tuly is,
And can be who they truly are:
Rodents, hiding in the dark.

AM