TheDorsai

Beware the jabberwock my son! with fury like a winter storm, skin-lashing, hell of lightning formed, this is no tale of cobwebs spun, do not mistake me for a fake, seen I the men who've been undone, still steaming, aye, their corpses warm, beware the jabberwock my son.

Beware the jabberwock my son! with fury like a winter storm, skin-lashing, hell of lightning formed, this is no tale of cobwebs spun, do not mistake me for a fake, seen I the men who've been undone, still steaming, aye, their corpses warm, beware the jabberwock my son.

Beware the jabberwock my son! with fury like a winter storm, skin-lashing, hell of lightning formed, this is no tale of cobwebs spun, do not mistake me for a fake, seen I the men who've been undone, still steaming, aye, their corpses warm, beware the jabberwock my son.

What is identity? What form does it take? Does it grow like a tree? (So much is at stake...) What form does it take: is it shaped by values or choices I make? (And what about my shoes?) Does it grow like a tree, do I have a voice? Can I tend it to be a thing to rejoice? So much is at stake, who I am, who they see, these fears I can't shake, even as I be...me.

I'd always wished to set the world on fire, to shake things up and bring all kinds of change, but then one night I got what I desired, and now it seems the world has gone deranged! The clinics hand out pills to make you sick, while schools have infant children in command, it's like something drained our nation's logic and left in it's place a mental wasteland! As I try to make sense of this new life, I no longer believe in fairytales, I tried to make a change and end the strife, and now know too well what such dreams entail. So think twice 'fore you wish upon a star for if it's cursed, your wish might go too far.

Your smoldering words, like a lover's kiss, by smoky hints ignite my burning wish, to end the night unmasked beneath the skies, my dark eyes alight with the fire's guise. Though you hood your light in the public eye, so as not to invite uncultured cries, your molten voice enflames my raging heart, until I yearn to tear your veil apart. Pursuing you has brought me plenty sport, through empty streets into secluded court, now we two destined souls, in orbit twined, so long alone, can be by fate combined. But while I'd placed you on the highest cloud, to you I'm just one more face in the crowd.

You, my love, a summer's breeze - playful, soothing, smoothing the lines from my sun-burned face. You, my love, a sheltering shade - calm, rejuvenating, stilling the roiling eddies of the broiling sun. Each night that I curl up around you, my love, my priceless treasure - the heavy silence is banished by your steady breath, the shadows are beat back by the quiet beating of your heart. even my thoughts still, unable to flutter, caught in the amber of this one perfect moment that goes on... ...but nothing lasts. Incessant, insistent, it stalks my consciousness. Growing, growling, in the silence it circles, demanding to be heard

(Everyone knows that cats are omnivores.  It is a little known fact, however, that the common house cat, deprived of living prey, supplements its dried rations by slowly devouring its owners' souls.) Miss Fluffers stretched.  It was a spine-crackling sort of stretch, the kind that starts in the pads of the feet and rocks the body like a wave, leaving her whispers all tingly.  She thought of it as the job-well-done stretch; and how appropriate tonight!  Just thinking about how firmly she'd wrapped her new human under her paw (so quickly, too!) made her purr loud enough to cause the object of her thought