Being the Wolf

The fragmenting
of my soul:
Pieces
chipping,
falling away.

Inside
is strength
the sleeper who awakens
is strength.

Scary
like a beast
The I that wasn’t

Modulating demodulating demolishing ripping screaming
nestled in a bed of nettles

The blood of life
trickling

The spine of strength
straightening

Blood is red and souls are black
ripping away with torn skin
The wall of my soul, I crack.
And behind is its steadily revivifying light
that reveals all the shadows
behind me

Shadows with form and motion
of dubious past tense purpose
the darkness of which
will be dispelled by that light

The dizzying height
of the fall to a distant crag
below
terrifying paralyzing
dilating
my pupils

Far down below, in the chasm
waits the wolves
as I fall I
widen my eyes
the need to know

Curiously I fall
and live for
the waiting wolves
they wait,
eyes curious
eyes unknowing
primal

I look to the leader
something’s blood glistening on its
fangs and lips.
In the full moonlight,
its face, the mask of death
is the mask of life

And a drumbeat begins
(it must be my heart)
I am in the desert
but feel a jungle madness
surface in my instinctive urge for survival.

No sense in running
I’ll fight the wolves off with
my bare hands.
As I take little steps towards
I notice that claws
have extended out of
the backs of my hands.

No gun
I don’t need to run
Just need to
take out the leader

And then I’ll take its place.

Being the Wolf

brupert

Joined January 2010

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Being the Wolf

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