Trade With  RexWeasel

Delivery At Death’s Door.

Part 1 Realisation

This one soul came a knocking at my door, the creature that stood there, was strangely vacant of stance.
The weasel or wolf, I was not quite sure stood, looking into my pupils torn form his life down below
Here he stood for moment hours if even that time passed before I even had a chance.
He spoke “My Name’s Rex” he spoke as if almost like a robot, and with this he started to show.
He showed me how it had come to be, his last love, his last chance at pure romance.

****

He was standing alone in a room; the drip of water from the fosse would run on a tedious drip.
He would sit alone in the darkness for hours, void of any contact, but a bed sat here, it stood alone.
He would hear the chattering parties around him, these people had fun always, took his pillow in his grip
And with that threw it against the partition wall and stormed out, needing to moan and groan.
Until a stranger caught his eye he searched frantically for a light, he needs smoke in his lip.
With that he tipped the shoulder soon the dripping sound grew louder, soon the beast began to moan.
With that he was startled by the sound of a door closing, when he awoke, he was in bed, in the nip.
Surely that was my imagination yet it all felt so real, almost as if, he was being haunted by that, groan.

****

He soon realised at his local gym that he had been getting hit on all this time by a coon in the room.
He was one of those built guys, but just his type, the weasel blushed, and soon got a big hint.
He remembered his dream, well nightmare from the night before, that face, he focused and zoomed.
He is the beast in the dreams the one he hears moan and groan, but that was not his last hint

Part 2 Satisfaction

That night the coon invited the weasel for drinks, the weasel knew he was drawn to him from the gym
The coon wanted nothing more than two of course get to know the weasel, with a few beers in him.
It could be seen as the next step but the weasel couldn’t really say no, he went out on a wimp.
That night was sure one to remember the coon walked him home, and tap his rear and kissed him.
That night the sounds of the groans weren’t as angered as before the lust of coon wasn’t nym.

****

The morning sunlight disturbed the quant dreams of the weasel’s anticipation over his new coon pal.
And soon he’d be off to the gym again to be tempted by his coon’s satisfaction.
He’d enter and do the daily routine, but no coon around, not at all, not one sign of him. At all.
He’d leave and in his gear bag opened a note that shocked him full of anticipation.

****

Consumed in the vice like grip of the robots stood his coon, deducted from emotion and floating there.
The robotised coon said “is you of a beating heart join me brother, join the robotic empire”
Gasping, and glaring around for an escape from his robotic romancer he found this unfair.
The Robotic arms of the coon attached to the wall enslaving me in his attire.
Those days seemed longer now, as this moment felt like a vital stabbing to my eyes....
With a plastic spoon,
These hours felt nonexistent, with his robotic coldness shifting through my fur, my hair tries.
Well it did until I heard something howl at the moon.

*****

Part 3 Deaths Delivery

That wasn’t all even escaping the robotic clasp of the coon would have done it death wan immanent.
Those shifty eye robotic void of mind body and soul, yet they were living, the weasel saw he would not.
Not for long in the coon’s cold robotic touch the feeling that life had to be all over, no more plot.
It sure made him sad, made him think to tear, not having the will to show it to this creatures fleet.
They encircled us as the coon drew the life from the weasel, no more time, nothing to eat.
Nothing left but his realisation into death the clasping claw bared down and took all him out.

****

The weasel knocked at deaths door, death that stood there, he was strangely vacant of stance.
The skeleton not quite sure stood, looking into my pupils torn from his life down below
Here he stood for moment hours if even that time passed before I even had a chance.
He spoke “My Name’s Death” he spoke as if almost like a robot, and with this he started to show.
He showed me how it had come to be, his last love, his last chance at pure romance.

****

From all it’s been quite strange to be here dead lifeless for one, the point I concur no more breath.
Death has come; I’ve been consumed, devoured by them, and delivered to my new lord.
It is a sweet injustice the robotic been did not see me struggle during that entire death.
I gave them no such satisfaction. I gave them not a single, not en uttered word.