And claw and fur rip free from the binding flesh, tooth and nail hold fast. Can you here the sound?
Crack, break, snap... Gutteral builds as the Lunar. There are weak in the woods, hunger wrenches tight, oh the fight... the fight. Senses arise anew and pull, tug, burrough deep. Smell of oak burning, blood in vessels churning. They seek the woods and escape. Though the escape they seek is much much more bleak. As I am sorry, blood stains my face as morn arises and the solar globe brings light. Naked once again, where have I been??? Where have I been.
- Jaye Whitewolf
COMMENTS
-