the fluffy kitten's stories

Auto-pilot vs a flight captain’s new wings. One is parroting. The other needs not be said. Flying high, swooping and soaring and loop-the-looping. And same as it ever was. Ostriches don’t actually bury their heads in the sand so insert another metaphor here. And repeat unspoken words until they explode your head.

There is a glut of words. I am gluttony. But she is too much of a whore to take it all away. She sees the explosions in the sky. On the tongue. In my eyes. And they all fizzle out. Damp fireworks. She sighs.