Disclaimer: I claim nothing
I think I’m in trouble. No, maybe it’s you. All my hiding behind lunatics when I was the crazy one the entire time. I find lately I’m wanting to rip the skin off the earth. Madness. I am duty-bound by the moon to follow your scent. Don’t make me do it. A maniac to the whim of lunar phases. You see, my friends I believe I’m a wolf when the moon ties itself to my bedroom window. My teeth bite my tongue. My jumping legs don’t let my body rest. It is my mind where I’m most harried. Hope is floating away in the arms of a silver balloon. It’s not the mist on the moors you need worry about. There’s never much mist in New York, I can tell you that. I refuse to divulge anymore reality than my remaining conscience affords me. I tell you this because I must hunt again soon. Have you ever been body hungry–starving deep down in your bones–where food and drink will neither satiate nor soothe. My thirst is far worse. Gentility has fought off the wolf, but I grow weaker by the day. These last coherent thoughts are captured through eyes of gold fog. Several purple veins are pushing through my temples. I thought the blood pounding in my ears was the five o’clock city train. It was my own pressure betraying me. I couldn’t dance upright when last I tried. I am a monster. I am a beast. I am unkind. I am nothing to anyone. These last few humanized moments are over. I stopped crying last night. There will be no tears shed when I hunt. I now fear for my life. I fear much more for yours.