kittens catch you yes they samba-claw up curtains looooong. the catch, the call, the loss of claws, go scatter scatter ripped from paws. the curtains pawed, the paws dis-scratched, an ur-anthropormorphic animation: now we fucking dance! a-scatter all across the floor, we crazy-up it, bed-time comes and goes. FUR claws, its ominous peter-and-the-wolf imminence holds no hold; how does one en-gauge with claws a-scatter, all a-zombie, all re-animated poly polyphonic-o-poeisis well you know the drill, just don't stop swinging, double double toil, your trouble love the stubble once the curtain fall has flirted, shrieking wounds fall to the floor, and samba echoes glory glory curtains swinging, though they now stand still, but for the drafts of air moved 'bout by transubstantiated claws of dancing christmas last.
puncture, scratch, slip, scream, enjoy the nouveau style polymorphous perverse-ity of
michael's
long-ing
song
(ish).
photo credit: cristina marx
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