Neurotic cats whine outside my door
like drunken skeletons lurking
under the sky and inbetweenthehouses,
as they stumble down the streets,
their rattling joints knocking together
as furless bodies shine:
Beauty and its Beast.

Whisps of the sun dance through the willows lean branches,
a girl and a man start to kiss,
as a woman who’s old giggles to herself
whilst an earthquake causes some noise,
and meadows with cows in crack
like a scab that starts to bleed,
red lips settle on a face of pure grace:
The Beast of the Beauty –
Or the Beauty of the Beast.