I sat amidst the roar and the clatter.
The baby cats were busy siphoning their mother.
Six I recall; six they were.
Each puncturing through mama's wells.
I sat bewildered.Staring without mere blink.
I sat and watched.

The ******* male cat entered
And domineering swalted to the seat.
Pushing forth the feeding babes.
One dropped and fell.
He acted as though drunk.
Maybe he just copy pasted my dad.
I don't know.

But mother cat arose with protest.
I could see her lips move.
Same as mother mine.
In defence of us from father's blows.
But the towering figurine owned strength.
One blow drew blood from mama's cheeks.
His claws had sufficiently worked.

She lay down on the seat.
Quiet yet submissive.
But was it really submission.
Mebelieved it thence a usurp plot.
For when the male turned to jinx the victory dance.
Her teeth dived into his protruding *******
Shriek shriek shriek none let go.

The monster was being monstered.
Brute had met science.
He shrieked upon the divan seats.
Prowling the children upon the floor.
One hit his head badly, never to meow again.
It was thence that she came clean.
Her silver lips orchre red.

One hurl accompanied his shrieks outside.
One jump sealed his accuintance.
He was gone as he came; violently.
Mother cat bent to sniff on her traveller babe.
Dew formed upon her severed cheek.
I cried too.
And mother watching from the corner of her newspaper.
Stammered under her breath.
"This marijuana will bewilden you."

Oh! Surely it, my sight jesters....
Love to life and life to love, I'm but hurt to look aback.
What more, than a heart that hurts to love..
Ache so chaste. Is it love, my ******* of firsts..
Paint for me green..... Maybe just from lust's way away I could sway.

Love at first, freaky at last.
Who beith the tricked, when rust trickles down the mast?
Sight between teats, a treat to even mow up the mist.
Half moon's curve lips, smile of the goddess Ana.
And yet a heart uncertain of whom to trust.
Is it that warmth you beget amongst a throng of plausible would be's...
Paint for me green..... For trickery is a match not only for those who hold on to fins.

A punctured lung and a leaking heart.
What love causes not even bullets can elate.
Down to up and up to low I fathom scars from love's stunts.
A broken heart? Into a thousand pieces it injures to none.
Is it red that intoxicates?
Is it that red is rare for us to blush at it.
Well paint for me green... I long to more than but stare.

Were we really a match from heaven sewn...?
Is it you that was once my galactical embraided?
You that I thought the world for.
And anything out of nothing I would have obligingly done for you.
How sights seen tend to trick..
How your being forever me pricked.
Paint for me green.... This that threatens to unmake us beings...