I am an Animal

I am an animal
even when no longer
can smell the scent of life,  
domesticated not by church bells 
that used to toll in my hometown
or by books on the pressed-wood 
shelves like my chin
sagging,
or by the marbled steaks
I indulge in when there is 
a lull in my dieting 
or by the images that 
kiss and say "I love you"
on television;
I am an animal
even when no longer wet 
my dreams long forgotten,
or hunt for women as if
they were life-
supporting
flesh, 
women now keep me   
on one side of my bed 
and insist on being in the bathroom 
when I need to shave; 
I am just an animal
even when no longer see   
the face of me without glasses;
I am an animal whose wildcat 
of a father 
partial to rabbits
has never been heard of 
since he died, 
whose wife, my
mother, since then 
has made her daily routine 
to die forever;
I am an animal
whose cubs appear only   
on Christmas cards 
and wrapping paper,
whose only lifetime wish
remaining
is the ability to pack and go 
exactly where 
hardly matters. 
Remember all
I am an animal
and want no high-tech
physician take away from me 
that last roar
with dear nurses
making sure my tubes 
are tucked in
roarrr...
denture missing 
roarrr...
I am an animal

Eugenio Rodríguez's Questions:

I write poetry in Spanish, my native language. But now and then something in English comes out.

In this poem, how does my lack of a native feel for the language show?

Can you be specific?

I don't write with punctuation because  punctuation contravenes the lack of order in my life. But here punctuation is required.

Does punctuation take away from the almost-rambling effect?