Catastrophe Pussycat

 

Catastrophe Pussycat

 

 

A taste of things to come,

dances on my tongue.

She screamed at me

all caps lock

in system shock

to be left behind,

I'm out of dreaming,

no power of flight.

Would take her with me,

but no strength to fight,

left me down past

until somewhere next life.

Virtual begging;

find her own way out.

Oh, remember,

I will always love you,

work as a waitress

in a cocktail bar

crushing ice,

crushing life,

pushing therapy,

on retail belts,

thick skin inured

to weals and welts.

 

 

Find me pressing along in one direction,

eyes fixed upon certain destination;

so very long in writing songs for her,

singing out too many ‘so far, so goods’,

while sobbing ‘that’ll do, may as well’,

and just how far it is, I cannot tell,

a system trap and we cannot be free,

wringing theory from sodden sponges,

when, feint left field, parry - here she lunges,

a batangas wielder, she’s an arch huntress.

Well, after you, my Pussycat Catastrophe.

 

 

Grabbing his pen, strumming his strings,

writes verse that speaks of forbidden things:

wishing you are beside me, bare cuddling,

to kiss me so soft, my red lips parting,

seek precious pearl in this hot wet cave,

don’t stop, we’ll come both together yet,

My will submits to take in even more of you,

pushing thick inches by inch by inch,

your strong sword will conquer my soul,

explode in my mouth, my spirit, my man,

I will possess you, will bewitch all I can.

 

 

It just flips, system down,

behaviour changer,

your long familiar,

more lost and stranger,

ditch cracking the safe,

embrace the danger.

 

 

Ways you undress me, ways you sound,

songs of your laugh make hearts to pound,

your scent awakes my woman inside,

our skin to skin, in rhythms and writhe,

save it up for tonight, oh I will be wild,

drink you all for breakfast with salty smile.

Tease me until our hair gets grey,

tease so gentle, for my kitty must play,

then come with me on our darkest day.

The moon will shine on my love for you,

the sun that blossoms in hearts both true,

our passion huge as foamy oceans deep,

lie in my loving arms to bless and sleep.

 

 

Catastrophe theory in pussycat tangles,

a new life flowers of perfect angles,

she draws me to her like balls of string,

then opens wide and takes me in.