Squinting eyes look up at me, as I peer down into slits of blackened coal. Tiny needles work in and out of my arm, and a whip flicks me now and then. Yes, alas, I am cuddling with my kitten. Innocence is so pure, yet tainted with obnoxious games of cat and mouse. Once, twice, three; her tail lashes out in ecstasy, as I stroke her soft fur. Her eyes close, and her paws do all the talking, kneeding in and out of my arm....is it love? Appreciative pleasure, to pain? Unknowingly irritating my skin, she loves me, unbiased, and sweetly melts away any problems on my mind, Truely, kittens are a gift from whatever kind of twisted god we serve.....The day I fail to make a cat or kitten purr, will surely be the day I cease to live.

Sitting here...the white box taunting me with empty invitations....fill me in! It taunts...and so I shall! I say, meeting its challenge. Like a potato under a masher, words are being smushed inside my brain bowl....squish...there goes an adjective....

The white is satisfied for now...though It knows I can do better. It wants me to pull a Noah and build a linguistic ark...2 by 2.....filling it more and more with living breathing beasts of one sort or another.

Why can't writing be easy? To whom am I accountable for this? Perverse inner joy? No, not at all. Expulsion of internal waste upon a white porcelain bowl? Maybe a little....Verbial laxitives, comparative stimulants....Yeah!....no actually, no....not at all.