I glimpse the tiger,
as I run away,
The tiger sleeps while I work.
Knowing always the tiger,
Hear his growl.
His hot panting,
in my veins,
His diamond eyes burning in the night
of my mind, refusing daylight,
in furious denial,
to find a loophole, and escape the tiger
and escape my fire
escape his warm soft fur against my skin
escape desire - the feel of his sleek muscular body
Escape his eyes glimpsed from beind mirrored shades
The tiger, the man, knowledge, pursuit
woven in glass, spinning, perched
all joy/anger/desire spent in running,
running from the tiger.
And then to softly ask for help.
tripping the tiger has me.
I have the tiger.
His claws slice through me,
through my disquises,
leaving me naked,
email@example.com (Andrew Swanson)
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