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when?

a tale of time hunting

By Iris ObscuraPublished 11 months ago Updated 11 months ago 1 min read
Honorable Mention in Poetry of the Hunt Challenge
Art by Iris Obscura

sharp,

heat walking,

blood grinning,

claws wet,

when was that again?

-

mine—

mine again!

for you, no escape.

all of you—

mine.

blond, tall, fat, ugly—

when I wave my tail,

you kiss my stiletto claws.

when was that again?

-

stop,

preen,

relax.

not that much, hun—

you’ll lose the edge.

nonsense!

the tongue remembers:

the blood,

the artery,

the musk,

the clam,

the—

I... don’t remember...

when was that again?

-

I sense them—

not hear...

they are good—

I was better.

but time—

better yet.

-

bend—

to the altar

of youth,

a relic in latex,

offering ruin.

the music

I hunted to,

they don't know.

remember?

when Lindemann shot

sparks from his crotch.

when was that again?

-

obey—

sugar mama—

spent myth—

open palm—

no, not me,

must be my prey.

buy why

is she in the mirror?

that line—

yes that one—

and then this—

so many still

were they there before?

cannot be...

when was that again?

-

I hear you.

you are no match.

even though

you are.

you—

bright thing—

young thing—

soft thing,

there is always

only one hunt,

and you—predator today,

and me—predator yesterday,

all of us—forever prey.

always

the idiots.

when?

when was that again?

.

Free VerseStream of Consciousnesssad poetry

About the Creator

Iris Obscura

Are you after "polite?"

Stable?

This is the wrong place.

Looking for the kind of beauty that looks like it crawled out of a fluorescent supermarket at 2:13 am and somehow asked you about meaning.

Read on.

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    Written by Iris Obscura