Catloop

Cats lick their milk from milky keys.
Black chords they puddle.
Nipples – kiss.
Then eat… to loopy overture.
Don’t stop. Another cycle. More.
Unless you wish to wear the same
Couture
Un-nippled.
When you stop, cats make you their furry ball.
And play.
They play until you roll…
Your skull
In their fluffy hair.
No milky keys.
No chords to smear.
“Catloop, catloop me ever more.
Unless you wish to taste my paw”.

____
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Оригинальный музыкальный catloop, послуживший вдохновению, здесь:
http://vk.com/ardorugus?w=wall-59377352_6

Метафора "сосков" пришла из английской прозы автора:

<< Her blouse wet and frivolous nipples swelled, attracting the camera look to her womanly breasts, seductive and tense in their shameless virginity. Precious to some they were nothing to her – all her body was nothing to her, just a dreadful material. Therefore, shaving off those ridiculous nipples she felt no regret, just a thought: “Should I feed them to cats? I wonder if they are fond of nipples…” >>
http://www.proza.ru/2011/05/07/884 (Villard Cord - Cam.RIP)