Your claws grow fast.
Your claws grow sharp.
We trim your claws.
Despite your cries.
Despite your hesitance.
We trim your claws.
For your safety
and ours.


Cat On My Lap

Cat on my lap.
He doesn’t want me to write.
He want’s me to feed him.
Or something like that.
He’s watching the letters
as they appear on this screen.
His weight is distracting,
the way his head impairs my
vision of the screen is distracting.
What the hell!
I guess I’ll stop writing and pet him.
He is my buddy after all.
Not to mention he’s now
gnawing playfully on my arm.