Deep cool blue

Water surrounds

The rushing of waves

A hollow sound

And I am diving

Diving down

In front the reef

Behind the ground

Salt water stings

And I can drown

Grey rubber skin

I wear around

A warm blooded body

That loves to clown

Swimming past

Fish playgrounds

I’m usually friendly

Until hunger growls

Chuckling at oysters

In seaweed crowns

I do a quick spin

Turning around

Heading back up

Tail crashing down

Against the currents

That carry my pounds

My big friendly face from

An under water town

Breaks through the foam

My laughter squeaks out

The sun’s yellow warm

Makes me glisten and spout

Seagulls caw hellos

Their greetings a pout

Their jealous of me

And my fancy breakout

I fling them the flipper

And give them a shout

Dolphins are better

Than birds fins down

The woman opens the balcony door and asks if I would like to go outside, but I don't like the noises, or how the sun scorches the carpet, or the smells which rise—smells like hot metal, flowers, petrol, mold, grass, rubber, sweat, and the wildcoats of animals. Into rich, odorous clothes I hide, or the crevice between the washer/dryer, or behind the box of Aquafinas in the pantry (I have long learned how to open the cabinet with a single claw). Why would they think I want to be a part of the world out there? Even my owners send me scurrying with their thunderous soles and blundering bodies and voices mean as dropped books (that is, when they're speaking to each other—they reserve sweet, strained noises for me). If I'm feeling brave (so rare, so rare) I might tiptoe across the balcony and look from the rail and tempt myself to go down. Sometimes I see cats slinking by blue wheels. They're not startled by the angry breaths of cars, but they hiss if a human comes close. The smells of these cats scare me most—smells of musk and might, of freedom and poetry.

#nonfiction #animalpov #cateyes

I awake still stuck in this trap THEY made for me. My food dish is empty and my water bottle is dry.

My long ears pick up a sound. THEY’RE coming! With all the loud noise and tiny hands poking and grabbing at me. I decide to pretend I’m dead.

I’m holding still when one walks in. It’s only the BIG ONE. This one’s not so bad. THEY open the top of my trap and I jump up, trying for freedom. THEY bark at me and push me away, then dump food in my dish and fill my water bottle.

I’m so happy to have food that I don’t notice when THE OTHERS arrive. They squeal and screech, piercing my sensitive ears. One runs up to my trap and sticks something through the bars. I chew it. It’s not a stick or food, it’s one of THEIR toys that I see them playing with all the time.

Another sticks THEIR fingers in my trap. I bite THEM and they make a horrible noise when I do. The BIG ONE picks up the screeching one and barks at me. I decide to lay back down and pretend to be dead again.

"Tch, the human world? Last time I went there, a few thousand years ago, a bunch of losers in armor made a game out of stealing gold from under my nose. What's worse, when I make efforts to defend my territory they point toothpicks in my direction as if I'm the one doing the crime-" The beast sat up from her chair in angered suspision, her mighty blue wings uncoiled at her back, and her legs uncrossed. Her pupils slitted further down the path of a coming threat.

"And when I pay them an apologetic visit in this, more elven and friendly form, they respond with torches and chained relics carrying the kind of symbols you'd find carved onto their tombstones!" She came to a stand. Her scaly tail whipped back, knocking over the chair she'd been lounging on before reminded of her human world experience.

"So now tell me little demi-child... For what purpose do you bring such a disturbing realm into this once pleasant conversation." Her skin sizzled and steam began to burst through the underlayer of each rising scale as though her true dragon form was about to make a violent appearance.

"Uh-uhm, f-f-for a s-s-sc-school pro-j-ject...?"

The house is still and all is well.

They've been gone since the morning,

Making me the guardian.

Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.

I am perched at the top of the grand set of stairs,

Enabling me to see the entire house.

With my hearing however, my spot is almost meaningless.

Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.

I hear rustling in the corner of the TV room.

I hurry over to find a roach, and the problem is taken care of.

It was obviously born in the house, for

Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.

As I make my way back to my post, I hear people.

They are approaching the side door.

I sprint to the door ready to defend.

Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.

I hear the familiar rattling in the doorknob, the rattling a key makes.

I am overcome with joy as the door opens and they are there!

My job is done for the day, and I can rest until tommorow.

Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.

Legs. Sprouting from above. Some long. Some short. Some thin. Some fat.

But what difference should it make? I'm hungry and I've just landed myself a human buffet. Focus, I tell myself, keep your eyes on the prize.

I decided it's best to stay low. We all know how humans get when they see a fin break the surface.

I look up. My mouth waters- not literally, of course, 'cause I'm underwater.

There are just too many options. I don't even know where to start. It makes sense that I should go for some long legs, right? But the longer the legs, the more of a fight they'd be able to put up. Alright, long legs are off the table.

How about short legs?

Too difficult to get a hold on.

Thin legs?

I'll pass. The meat-to-bone ratio is horrible.

Fat legs?

Nah, way too much meat to chew through...

...you know what, fuck it. I'm going home. I'm not even that hungry anyway.

I sit in my tank

all warm and calm.

No one to bother me

no one at all.

I sit in my tank

waiting for that tall pale thing

who feeds me at night

yummy little treats.

I sit in my tank

ready to hunt.

As the thing places that white blob

in the of my home.

I sit in my tank

watching the blob.

Running in circles

all day long.

I sit in my tank

about to strike.

But thing picks me up

and takes me away from blob.

I sit in thing's hand

all curled up and small.

Thing made our eyes lock

and thing smiled.

I sat in thing's hand

" I love you Noodles "

My thing said

as it kissed my small head.

I sat in thing's hand

knowing I'm loved.

I love my thing.

She is my home.

The sun shines across the horizon

But the fields are empty

It’s always going to be empty.

No one wants to visit me

The grasses are high

They grow so much

It’s hard to see

But it’s still empty

This vast is plain,

filled with flowers

Trees are spread around

Yet loneliness creeps in

Although Im the boss

The one who chases away the others

I am still fearful of being alone

"I've got my bets on Fatty down low."

"You kidding? I was listening to these scoundrels talk down at Madison and they're bloody psychos! The leader wears a necklace made from bits of the spines of his victims!"

"Ah, shut up Feathers. You and your British mates haven't seen shit."

"Say what you want you wanker but I've had my fair share of gruesome sights. Being an imported farm pigeon isn't exactly a bloke's idea for the American dream!"

"Shut the hell up! All of you! The fight's about to begin!"

"You're all sick! Why do you guys consider this entertai-" Feathers was shot at 11:57 PM on December 7, 1994, as a result of his over-abundance of chirping. Gang leader Tito McDyess saw it as a distraction.

"Well, I guess Feathers was right. That guy is a 'bloody psycho.'"