I don't want your dreams or your heart.
I am night and your worst fears
of the darkness inside yourselves-
the will to survive at any cost.
Silly ones, you fancy tigers and wolves
who conveniently die off, easily admired
beyond range of tooth and claw.
Death is noble, is it not?
Look at me, my dears, a bit of the wild
running under your cities, in your factories,
always chewing away on civilization.
I've crept in a bengal's cage at your zoo
and gnawed at raw meat you feed the fool.
I revel in your trash, greasy wrappers,
stale bread, sewage, all of it a gift to me.
I abide in your basements, in your walls,
and if you should corner me with a broom,
I'll run right up the stick at you,
my dear courageous top of the food chain.
You'll throw the broom down and runaway, I trust.
Human disgust slips right off my oily fur.
Just like you, my darlings, I live on what I must.