I Don't Wanna Be There When My Cats Die

this morning is like a warm plate. a blanket of lucky charms
and dense space... smoked sausages on long cords of brevity.
a supreme miasma of little things and unforeseen plasma. 
this morning is like ghosts and hours.
time on a clock at a rakish angle.
i don't wanna be there when my cats die.
i  just wanna hurt as much
as it will.