Simply Dogs
we aren’t the Cats clutching half-dishevelled pigeons in our jaws we are simply Dogs sniffing our rectums waiting for dinner to be served, pissing where others have pissed before us, making an outstanding fuss if we haven’t been socialised within our first four months, we shit our pants waiting for mother to wipe our arse, we aren’t the cats, killing to pass the time who flirt with their lives, one to nine betting on a ten, we are simply the Dogs howling at the latest runt pulled from the gutters when literatures royalty desires a new piece of meat to chew up and spit out over the floors of their lecture halls
