Tiger, Tiger…

As it Comes


Can sadness leak
its dripping tears
as if it could
escape by proxy
through half inch wounds
then out through the knotted
wooden floor’s gaping remnants
of ancient times
and trees
torn limb from limb?
Imposters: damp and warped,
stiffened – dead grasslands
for clumsy walks,
prowls cut short by meagre
metal boundaries,
but there is no bounding,
no hunt, no chase, no kill
no cubs, no family,
but plenty of abandoned scent.
I smell fear and weakness,
greedy consumers,
glaring customers
disturbed human sweat
and cruel tamers
wielding lashes and prods,
chains and vicious collars.
Vices and weakness,
I see those – they smell
of commercialism
and exploitation; even my water
smells of death.
My tired body aches, its atrophy
longs to be beyond the wire mesh
and cruel, sadistic pleasure
in the vertical hold of cold steel.
I need to be
I need to run and run…

View original post 34 more words

One thought on “Tiger, Tiger…

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.