(warning: felinophiles and cat lovers should avoid this poem)
(warning: another gross and angsty poem)

Poetry of motion
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The head buffets the raised surface
How smooth the brick seems when viewed
From a distance

Gristle grazing concrete
whirlwind of will
A piece of angst flies 
with a piece of flesh

in a mad frenzy 
not stopping until I feel spent
and begin to build it up again

trust turned to terror
never suspecting
never expecting

splotch on sploch
brain on bone
the tears stay inside 
while the blood flows freely

why does a cat have a tail?
so you can have a handle
while you swing it overhead

I imagine that the grout is catgut
They use it for violin strings
did a yowling cat ever make
so beautiful a sound 

Splotch on splotch
Brain over bone
A constellation flowing
on a brick wall

the rough brick, greedy
takes the fur
not enough
the flesh the bone
the gristle
all the blood 

can terror transfer
to a physical medium 
where does it land
flying into the open air

a spray of blood 
straight from the main vein 
streams in an arc toward the sky
reaching out to a higher force in vain
gravity saps the hope

thanks for the breeze
protesting the unwilling dance

why did it come up to me then
I let a guy kiss me 
and he thought he could beat me
I should have let the cat go sooner