hes asleep
on my hand
again
i feel his purr throb
i feel his heart bump
on
his
warmest underside
my hand
is his
pillow & comfort
his presence
is
a
soft weight delightful
& his claws grip
my fingertips
in dreams
like government fuckery
& the end-times bells
are
a
performance art overflow
just mimes gone mad
that
cant
touch
our
soft station lay in
from the cat cat archives
