A Move To Quick
A quick move.
The hunter now the hunted.
Contemplation, calculation, possible mass destruction.
Better grab the condom.
I feel like it's sodom.
Better run till dawn.
The claws are drawn.
I'm gonna start sprawlin, coughin, jawin.
I gotta get goin.
This bad dream is trippin,
flippin me into a bad state.
Throw the creature in a crate.
We need to sedate.
I'm no longer it's slave in this state.
Shove behind the gate so I can now relate.
free from the hedonism of this casim and blasphimism.
poem by Michael McParland
Added by Poetry Lover
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