These melancholic creatures dawdle in private
Echoing in eerie trepidation; flat toes scatter dottily
across walls nude and dun, whispering white secrets
Sinuous forms clobber milky surfaces with quilted scale
Bodies dappled, tails swerving, sprightly chirping

A yellow cantata of wild throats clucking, pink lipped
Supine on marble, animated fibers of moonlight, guttural
with feline ferocity; wide irises detract in fiery fluid flexing
Fluffy lashed, fluttering plum hearts on sandy rigid bumps
Like pearlescent glass on black coffins; rabid ashen pigmies

Diaphanous nymphs of the velvety night splurge, unattended
On timorous insect, tap dancing to existence on abandoned slabs
Filching phantasms from static air, gulping the juice of mortality
Flailing their soft bodies against ebony photons of cold shadows

Crawling past the gates of Death as transparent spirits flitting
by on a contorted malleable trance, tasting flushed redolence
while lying upside down, agape and ravenous, like quiet fairies
wizening by the hour, with sand-paper scuttling, tip toeing on gravity

Tendril by tendril wriggle the philosophies of life
A recluse congregation of small slithering beings 
throbbing and twisting in the hushed, sweated vigor
These convulsive, contractile, missionary aliens