Unbothered and alone, I've lived in this broken down room for years, safely cocooned by barbed wire, rubble and neglect, silence of broken bricks and the seasonal green of a useless tenacious plant. I watch the rise and fall of the sun, forever waiting for it to fuck up. Of course, it never does.

Every day, I stare at it all through a fist-sized hole in my lair. I stare and absentmindedly fondle protrusions of the crumbling brick wall. They feel like chicken nipples. I am at peace. I look for entertainment, mostly. Nothing I see ever tempts me to leave. I just need to make sure of that. Often.

Until the day Delicare comes. It arrives in the daytime, although I prefer it were night and I never saw the whole thing at all. I can see it now - the ghastly thing - in its entirety through the hole, and I don't understand why it never leaves or how long it's been there and why it is that even though it's so close to the hole I can see the whole thing in such damning detail.

The thing is full of kittens, was full of kittens, and forever will be full of kittens. They never stop. They come and go in a stream of unending activity, and there could be five of them or several hundred thousand and I have no idea which. One or a few hundred like to carry a briefcase and there are others, or maybe the same ones, that talk on mobile phones. I say talk, but I'm not sure. They make sounds, but I've forgotten all languages long ago and don't know if those sounds mean anything.

They spill out of the Delicar, and dash about with importance of ones charged with an important diplomatic mission. Sometimes there are plaintive sounds of saxophone and I feel the world slipping away from me like a deflated balloon skin and I tumble through lots and lots of space, with cold lights and no air, heads over heels. I reel and the Delicar is there, sometimes laughing, laughing, laughing in ways no one or nothing ever should laugh.

I've found cement, I blocked the hole. I blinded myself with a brick and covered myself with cement in the corner so I may never leave. Never see. Never again witness the Delicar. The cement hardens and I become immobile. I am at peace again. I feel death coming. With my last strength I reach for the place where the whole was and claw at it - I ... just ... want.... Delicar...

got my thrill in Co. 2 blue ill

and no one noticed save a porcupine

he nodded gracefully out on the porch

he woke and dashed into a grate

his face was mashed like grvey

I went back to selling felt

We shared something we felt

Conspired over felt at Co. 2 blue ill

we made a load of grvey

until John arrived with porcupine

who told a story about a grate,

who every night would burn a porch

and nodded as away went the porch

ablaze to fund his factory of felt

all profit made to clog the grate

as goes the saying here at Co. 2 blue ill

"Someday we'll see the porcupine!"

I've been here for 27 years, have gone to every picnic, acquired frequent flier miles and put my daughter through college and still, after a drink, I won't hesitate to tell you how it's all a bloody load of grvey.

it's tasty, this squished up grvey

worth the cost of every porch

burned up by John's porcupine

all my clothes are made of felt

the uniform of Co. 2 blue ill

the blood and sweat and tears that fill the grate

the porcupine looked jealously at what was clogged up in that grate

his eyes burned holes into the grvey

my thrill about to happen in the barracks of Co. 2 blue ill

chairs rocking eerily on the porch

the porcupine was chewing upon a piece of felt

I'm sick and tired of that porcupine

The thrill, grvey, the grate, effluent and oh that chewing porcupine

his cries echoing through the grate

a reflection of my thrill I felt

up to my knees in shimmering grvey

spilled out onto the porch

where now I stand, with a pocket full of pills, preparing for the party tonight at Co. 2 blue ill

I wonder how he felt that day the drastic porcupine

chewing bills for Co. 2 blue ill like arson in a grate

the thrill a match the grvey spilled on that fateful porch

They're fucking in front of the kittens
These two
I'm watching them through my peephole at Co. 2 Blue Ill
They came in a Delicar
Shit happens playfully
Blame the cat.

Suppertime for the cat
Preparing for the arrival of the kittens
As they screw playfully
Between just the two
The seven, the twenty-six, masked and holy neighborhood in a Delicar
Excitement runs through Co. 2 Blue Ill

Somebody spiked the water-cooler at Co. 2 Blue Ill!
With some fluid excreted from the cat
There's a bust at the Delicar!
Where they rounded up all the kittens
Removed their antennae, and escorted them through the parade, two by two
As they purred and puked playfully

He spread her legs playfully
In front of the peephole at Co. 2 Blue Ill
Communal shower's at 2
With a lathered up cat
Giving birth to 2 kittens
The legacy of the Delicar

Say your prayers, Delicar!
A kitten screamed playfully
In a shower full of kittens
The kittens fed by Co. 2 Blue Ill
And it's philosophy of Cat
Feline and Body bring together two.

And there was never a two.
But under the wheels of a Delicar
And between the ears of a cat
A woman's legs were spread playfully
Knocking over my cubicle at Co. 2 Blue Ill
To release what caused all this, a box full of kittens

Goddamn this cat, licking thighs two by two
Blending kittens and the backdrop of the Delicar
But that's how they fire you, playfully, in the shower, at Co. 2 Blue Ill.