I am half in love and terribly sorry for it - for you, deer. For I am a beast willing to hand you a mouthful of my chewed and still-beating heart. Yet, never will I grace you with the whole thing til’ the very end, and the final killing bite has landed on the tender of your throat. I’m like a cat, and so is my half-love. But do not mistake me for some common household pet. This half-love is no delectation; no gift displaying my kitten-soft admiration. Do think me, however, a rather large and undomesticated Felidae. Similar to that of a jaguar, or along the lines of something of feline-nature with sharp claws and the tendency to maim. To be standing at your door, a thing Herculean and ferocious. A little hunt-starved, even. A dribble of blood down my split-open chest, and down my ever-grinning face, with half a slow-bleeding, masticated organ in the savage of my jaws...
It is rather terrifying, don't you agree?
I’m feel particularly feral tonight. I don’t know why.