We Tigers

left alone  for the birds to feast upon.
they weren't just running in circles. it wasn't just that.
there was much more to it. i remember seeing them from a distance,
and my eyes aren't good, so that isn't saying much.
anyhow, there was no question that these infants, they were tigers.
infant tigers/ 
i saw them, i watched them, i stoned them with my bare hands.
that was when i got closer, of course.
that wasn't a question. none of this is.
they were so close, so close that their stripes had six or seven hairs
hardly out of place, and so noticeable.
the lack in proper coat alignment. 
i remember becoming one, to any extent that i could.
i got on all fours, and i crawled towards them. 
with one of my paws outstretched....he came sniffing.
his nose in the air, i was ready for acceptance. 
i as ready for a family of my own.
me, a lecherous basket-case crawling with auto-immune deficiencies.
crawling with things you wouldn't want to fathom, not even if you were able. 
i was here to be lonely. 

but these children, they erased all memory of anything prior or subsequent. 
the readiness was all.
it was all that was existing within me, relentless and overbearing.
and whatever happened to that sad boy? the one who could crank
out a song like it was nobodies business, like it was his business...
yelling and kicking and screaming with his tongue,
exasperated 
reaching me via kinetic energy
being me via soulless existences....
intertwining
and a small conjecture so minuscule that it becomes the bane of my very fucking existence.
and i can't read, and i can't write.
my head tells me about these animals, about their lack of slumber, or of mine.
my head tells me about these animals, about the onset of incestuous slaughter.
it tells me about their rituals atop this mountain. 
a mountain covered, blanketed with nothing but the purest, most virtuous snow.
the virginity of the earth was poured atop this mountain, doused it with innocence ready to be corrupted.
a blemish covered with chalk
and these boys, trivially dancing around this young woman dressed identically to them, yet more revealed.
her knees locked, her face to the floor.
yet there was nothing more admirable. 
what's funny was the exuberance from within her still shone.
a blemish covered in chalk
perhaps i was the sole viewer of this. 
though she held it in the palms of her hands, 
with a turn of her wrist, i would be blinded by utter whiteness. 
so me, dressed in spirit, i did all but race toward the tribal goings-on. 
hands outstretched, reaching for one of the yawping, frenzied boys,
did they notice?
and i'm just thinking
"get it out of me, get it out of me"
i can't purge myself of speech
there's no initiation, the selfish vocal cords within me
there wasn't anything
i opened my mouth, slightly
pushed out my tongue
groaned 
there was no pretending
i schreeched
the girl turned to me
there was nothing in her eyes; she was beautiful
just an abysmal, vacuous void
and my comprehension was small
if not minute
the largest tiger in size waved me over without ever ceasing his graceful gamboling.
he didn't yield anything but acceptance
it was indubitable 
it was soon after that i came to the conclusion that these infants were mocking her
i could have been wrong, but the first thought which came was the possibility of them performing, or having her perform, various sexual acts on them.
this exposed girl, making her small. anxious, uncomfortable, and insignificant. 
she stood, ashamed maybe.
all the time they had invested into making her feel....
into making her disgusted...into making her afraid
i was intrigued
there was six of them that i took down
when the claws ripped through my fingertips, well, i'm not sure i was surprised.
i was beginning to see the picture as a whole
it was the Lost Boys
it was the lost boys with imaginations that extended beyond this universe
extended as far as Zeus' strength could throw sand from my backyard
but the significance and the power of this, it had more strength embedded than within Zeus himself. 
When the swords extended from my fingers, there was no reluctance pertaining to my next move. 
there was a trench yards away
i suppose that was where the bodies were stored, kept after death, preserved hardly, not even in memory.
there were two left and four of them lying ceaselessly, squirming from their fur, remnants of it being left at t heir bedside.
their human flesh would emerge as a new skin entirely. 
the girl looked up to me, finding her eyes of greater potency than mine.
i've been stopped completely
her foreboding stare
the last of the six tigers encompassed me
in order to stop me or something of the like
i presume
i let them gnaw on my ears as my limbs trembled 
i let them hang off my fur.
i watched my blood souse their fingernails
all of this while she gazed at me
agape 
i watched the left lobe of my face be torn off. at that, i turned.
rage wasn't far from festering
all of that, all of that was dumb, you see.
the point to any of this, or to all of this, rather,
is that the young girl that i watched shamefully tilt her head toward the warmth of the forest that day
the next day, i tilted that head of hers for her
she was a miserable fuck
i tilted it one way, then the next,
but fast, and hard.
it fell limp, and onto my lap. 
no man would ever touch her again anyway
what i did with my claws was, well, i ripped her cheeks apart.
i ripped apart her livelihood.
i made it so both of her intestines shone from her outwardly, obnoxiously. 
they were what shone through, as opposed to that intellect that i once saw, not too far fetched. 
i made it so that beneath all of her hair, and beneath all of her words, she was broken. 
what i id that day was rip apart every one of those children
and i threw them, individually, into that trench that still remains, and it remains within me as well.
but a few hours later, i gathered the tattered girl in my wicker basket
and i threw her in as well.