Look at that beast...hardly a proper form at all.
Most likely can’t even regenerate his tissue,
just look at it--the spawling limbs, that static
jerky gait, and obviously not that efficient,
draping his flesh with strands of my creation
and is forever trapped above the warm
earth, dwelling in a cinder block, blocking
my sun in the...

hush you idiot...
Stupid, yet so damned yummy.
What were you looking at...that? (Ack)
stay down in there...don’t make me spit you up
and peck you to bits. Who is that I ask?
Why do those things admire us with awe?
No they will never do. Feet too small too many claws,
and of what use can that bill be?...none I say....
and he hath no dreams of flight....tied by a heavy heart
and solid bones, why it is amazing that they even try to
compare themselves to...

Hmm hmm hmm.....
fowl on the hoof...rather on the fly;
feathers soften my chin and dry in my throat...
damn...I must drink soon or else I shall cough
him back up...ah the brilliant morning sun...
soft spring grass, but wait...
MUST...wash...him...down,
and clean his conscience
off from my paws.
Oh joy! HE is over there.
I must now stroke his leg,
along with the frail tender ego...
but he will provide whatever I need.
Though why must I "mew"?
Alas only a few for my creme so I may
clean myself for this evening,
a night full of singing
under the old streetlamp...

"The feral feline beast
roars in contempt
after her conquest
of the winged treat,
so soon after he himself
had chased down his own
invertebrate temptation."

...no that Sucks...
too much Whitman on a spring day is never a good thing.

"alas...
the big fat cat
ate the slow
moving jay that
just had sat
on top of the back
door mat and ate
the stringy
slinking worm;
then she headed
for a nap..."

Beautiful...