wolves licking feet

i could tell she never had a dog, mostly by her dirty fingers. Had she been fortunate enough to have one she would wake up daily to warm thick saliva running over her spindly little hands. cant you see her eyes are lit by a sugary maddness? she would sneak him cookies under the table,raisin mostly ( who wants that shit anyway). A rich chocolate cookie may just make its way from her mouth to his, and her maid would find her dog like a deflated mass of fur in a pool of vomit. dead. her generousity and his greed reflected in his marbled pupils.
her mother would have the once winter white carpet of her 8th floor apartment on the south side of the trump towers repaired by a man that didnt know how to properly use tenses.
Past is present and present is past to him
Which is funny because isnt that how it is for the dead?
the little girls fingers would remain dirty, and stray hairs from her deceased dog would stick to her lollipop stained palms. a shrine to her missing friend.
she would grow up and fall in love with a massochist
they would fuck and scream and she would gag him and smile at the sound of him losing consciousness as she wraps her scarf tighter around his neck
he would beg for her to stop, but she would touch herself as he clawed for air
when she finished she would unwarp the scarf, while making him lick her raisined fingers
freudian doctors would love her
in fact, her masochist would be one
i looked at the little girl on the street harder as she twirled her balloon sring around her fingers until the tips turned blue
and thought to myself
maybe its better for children to not have pets
they wont have to learn about loss so early in life
of course
in that case
we would all be so normal
so vague
and these days
who doesnt want to be sodomized by a girl that killed her dog?