Full.
I drink a cocktail of moonlight. I twirl and vibrate in a field of gold. My skin is slick with sweat. Perfect percussion thuds in my ears and my nerves pulse. The song ends and I pull the buds from my ears. Wrapping the headphones tight around my phone, I shove the black brick into my pocket.
The moon is overhead and I know it's coming soon. The change. That cocktail will rush through my veins and light a fire under my skin. I await the moment anxiously. The others, most of them, can change when their body wants it. When they feel that itch in their skin. I can't. I've got to wait for the full moon, so when the night comes I prepare. I wait anxiously. When it comes, I make the best of my night and I relish every second.
Every gust of wind pushing through my tundra coat. Each branch crunching or snapping beneath nimble paws. All of the intimate dances, rolling and streaming through trees with my pack.
I drink a cocktail of moonlight. The changes rush through my body. Bones crack and my body is in a blaze. I howl into the night and seconds later I am met with the howls of those I love. Those that love me Those who saved my life and made me this great beast.
Screaming is your love language.
You gnash your teeth.
Inches from me, you hover over.
You probably feel like a great tower, a skyscraper.
I must seem like a weed in the sidewalk cracks.
Your voice is like the wail from the chemical plants.
I can't understand anything you're saying.
You're just noise.
And I just want there to be silence.
I am foul mouthed.
I am mostly sharp edges.
My mind is an old projector on loop.
Repeating moments over and over.
But it can never be changed.
I'm too old to peel off the invisible layer.
A thick sheet of prickles.
I'm too old to restructure.
To rebuild the bones and flesh around my soul.
But I'm not too old to love.
To speak kindly.
To do better.
To be.
But
On knees
Crushed by the weight of disbelief
Blind
Eyes flooded by dark waters
Not the cleanest of souls
But
No harm was meant for you
Nothing foul came to play
But
They spun lies to you
Dark and sweet like molasses
Horrible and convenient
Like your first smoke
Slipped right through fingers
A red ribbon whipped out into the wind
You
Jaded but kind
You were broken
Chucked off the trail like a snapped twig
You never found the path again
Refusing to come close
Refusing to see my face
Hunt of the Ladybugs
A goats head effigy hangs in the shadows. It watches me from above, mounted into the barn wall. Crack. I wish I couldn't still hear it. The hammer striking down on my skull. The sickly squish as it's pulled back from the blood caking above my ear. A ribbon of scarlet before everything goes black. The blood is waterfalling down my face, pooling around me. The straw soaks it up, thirsty.
I can no longer see where it went. He? It? I'm questioning everything I knew. Cold, I lay crumpled like an old sack across the concrete floor. Everything is silent, but I don't dare try to crawl away. I've learned my lesson, ankle screaming. I had snapped like a twig. Fragile as a swallow.
Without warning, I felt a breath against my gasping lips. Something, someone is right above my soaked ear. Pausing to inhale after every two words it whispers, "Ladybug ladybug fly away home. Your house is on fire and your children are gone. All except one and that's..."
Who am I then?
My hands rest on the table
Little indents in my wrists
You hear it all the time
Especially on TV
Innocent until proven guilty
But to them...
What is innocence?
What is proof?
The judge says convicted of First Degree
I think, first?
That doesn't sound so bad
My lawyer hangs his head
He's a fighter
Heart and soul
The judge reads my sentence
I can't breathe
The cuffs on my wrists feel like anchors
I defended my name
They threw blood on it
My lawyer pled with logic
He pled with passion
They were blinded
By a bad name and a rough jaw
I bowed at the mercy of the court
They saw evil in me
Contradicted the man I know myself to be
So
Who am I then?
My Lusty Fingers
Nothing feels quite as soft as your neck between my lusty fingers.
Digging into the muscle.
Crushing down on your larynx as you stare bewildered and breathless into the mud holes I have for eyes.
You must feel so betrayed by them.
Drowning in them like unprepossessing quicksand.
There is no comfort there, no reassurance.
They only grow darker, into pitch-black voids as the excitement takes over.
Nothing feels quite as fragile as your cheeks beneath my lusty fingers.
For a moment I seem tender.
Your face like a Carolina peach.
I could crush it, but sweet nectar wouldn't drip down to my fingertips.
No, you would shatter like a bird, like fine china.
I could rub all you are between my fingers, grinding you slowly into dust.
Nothing feels as enlivening as the thought of your crown colliding with the wall.
My lusty fingers wrapped through your locks, guiding the way.
Paint chips falling to the floor, dust filling the air like confetti.
Nothing feels as satisfying as your body crumpling to the floor.
My lusty fingers grasping at either side of my own neck.
I watch you, a muddled sack of potatoes, feeling almost smug.
I watch you, swiftly ceasing to exist, and nothing ever felt so triumphant.
Anxiety, even in the guest bedroom
Like underwater screaming
you break the static barrier buzzing and swarming my head.
I feel the viper wrapped around my heart constrict and tighten
as your random existing and vanishing
existing and vanishing only irritates him further.
I see for a moment a disdain for you
wanting to be very alone and yet
I want to be held tighter than ever before in my life.
More coddled than a bawling child.
More tender than for the new born flesh.
But I push the sudden and vivacious senses of life away
and I sink down in to the deep
dark waters
drifting as my ears fill with the pounding of my heart
and I loose myself to this weight, this suffocation.