Anything happen while I was asleep?
cherry valley forever

blake kathryn
Today's Document
Three Goblin Art

⁂

if i look back, i am lost
noise dept.
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
No title available
wallacepolsom
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

ellievsbear
YOU ARE THE REASON
occasionally subtle
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Peter Solarz
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

tannertan36
almost home
seen from United States

seen from Singapore
seen from Colombia

seen from Brazil
seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Maldives

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from T1
seen from Croatia
seen from United States

seen from Sweden
seen from Palestinian Territories
@phoenixandhypatia
Anything happen while I was asleep?
before the others wake
only your shoulder exists
scent of fresh coffee
sun growing through the panes
mark other people’s time
Phoenix is a cat who owns the writer Michael Neal Morris. At some point, he figured that if his human could write poems, then it probably wasn't too hard. This is book is the result....
It is finally here.
Phoenix is a cat who owns the writer Michael Neal Morris. At some point, he figured that if his human could write poems, then it probably wasn't too hard. This is book is the result....
It is finally here.
Cat Lit turned 4 today!
Stay tuned for more. Meow.
Ho Ho Ho and all that. But where’s my food, human.
Underneath the desk I sleep.
I love him despite his stinky feet.
The carpet is soft and warm,
and it is quiet before the storm
of people invade our tranquility
and Human makes more coffee.
—Phoenix
My life is so so hard.
So we are agreed. We will not speak to him until he says he’ll share his ice cream.
A Misunderstanding
I crawled up to his chest, my haunches lowering slower than he wanted upon his comfortable gut. But he called my name, half whisper, half shout. I bent my head and pushed it into the stubble between his beard and neck. "Dammit!" he suddenly shouted, and before I could react He was disentangling my claw from his shirt and pushing me to the floor. I licked my paw, pretending I wasn't bothered. He shifted on the couch, not even looking to see if I was hurt. He just kept watching that box, as if a cat that loved him more was about to come out of it. I finally got his attention when I tapped his foot. "What?" he asked. I gave him the eye, the one that says, "Are you out of your mind?" He shook his head, then said, "You can come up if you stop being a bitch and scratching me." Well, I almost turned away right then. I nearly waltzed myself to the laundry room, where at least a warm pile of clothes would give me a little attention. But then I saw his gaze had returned to the television. I said to myself, "Oh no. I'm not going to let him forget me that fast." I leapt back onto his stomach, delighting in the sound of his "Oof!" before he put his hand on my back and started caressing me. Before I let him know he was forgiven, I turned and waved my tail in his face. "Oh alright," he said. "Lemme see, okay?" It sounded like a contented chuckle came from him, so I didn't mind when he brusquely pushed my body against him.
Happy Caturday from Phoenix
You probably think I’m sleeping.
Why, human, did you disturb my nap?
A Plea For A Return to the Days of Yore, For Example, Yesterday When You Were Petting Me
I'm all for spontaneity, creative ways to get the job done. Just yesterday, I re-purposed one of your glasses by pushing it off the desk. Now it decorates the inside of the trash can. You're welcome.
But this putting stuff -- books, groceries, unfolded clothes for example -- in the comfy chair is a lousy -- how do the kids say it? -- oh yes: aesthetic.
It is neither art, nor function. How am I supposed sleep, I mean create, on top of a box of sparkling water I can't crawl into? Even the clothes are cold. You know I prefer them in baskets.
Return yourself to the chair, your ample tummy warm, coffee your only need (besides the stroking of my fur, of course). Don't let plastic bags come between us, for you love me.
I am starting to think he loves this Chelsea more than me. It’s confusing. Girl’s name, but a bunch of guys running around and failing to pick up a ball. Game would be much better with cats.
Cats know how to play with a ball.
You can’t tell, but I’m shooting the finger at you.