Litter Box

tending to the litterbox
is not a task preferred
for it truly is the shittiest
this much, you may have heard
’tis a piteous endeavor
for regardless of one’s diligence
attempting to remove each clump
will only beget new remnants
which make it near impossible
to execute a thorough riddance
fomenting one’s obsessive compulsive
hyper-vigilance
enveloped in the vortex
like a kuiper belt of quantum droppings
spiraling into eclipsing suns
where time refuses stopping
then, of course, your kitty cat
will promptly perpetrate intrusions
seeming to have lain in wait
to vitiate your trial’s conclusion
which, perhaps, is preferable
when compared to their predilection
orchestrating olfact’ry affronts
upon Edesia’s token
flippantly forgoing such civilities
as inhumation
leaving fumes to waft
into the window of your sustenation
scarcely does exist a tool
designed for proper execution
in the realm of undoing the wrath
of your kitten’s ablutions
then there is the consequence
inflicted by toxoplasmosis
subjecting one to a life
of perilous subconscious motives
disavowing dignity
despite one being none the wiser
all the while as wit and wisdom
wither into states most dire
some might think to situate
the litterbox afar from self
who all too soon then acquiesce
to errant marks of tacit tell
with expeditious ardor
one must hearken to the litterbox
pray barter not
for any act thus subsequent
will end in loss
in this, I have said enough
to warrant any Dalek’s malice
were that one could graciously
exterminate me of this VALIS
render me a willful interfusion
as the litter’s fodder
so that we might revel
in the vortex of a river, godless
lo, a life indentured to the servitude
of any feline’s ward
shall verily be filled
with languid litter duty
evermore