Uncontrollable Urges
When the full moon strikes the first blood of night
He laps his soul in delight and howls deeply
As the forest calls to him to come and feast
He sees the dawning of realization focusing
To his credit and others the werewolf cannot help
This sordid shape he takes when evil calls
So, if I happen upon one tonight I shall weep
For I know my time would be through
And the animal in him guides his lonely sight.
A personal blog with my horror/sci-fi poems, short stories, heavy metal lyrics and personal posts.
Showing posts with label werewolves. Show all posts
Showing posts with label werewolves. Show all posts
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Transparent
Transparent
Written - 09/04/00
As he unknowingly walks
Through the clouded days
Of life, love and unhappiness
He knows only the beast within
But knows not what it will do
The man is gone far into animalistic
Tendencies, and he sees transparent.
As he butchers and hunts
Through the winding trees
Of death, willows in despair
He thinks only with beast mode
Apparent immortal breathe
Of life and meaningless unfaithful
Misgivings, and he knows with daring.
As the beast becomes man
Again he seeks what it is
To know true freedom when
Time is an enemy and blood
Becomes the death of living
He serves his deadly sentence
Without, and finds love uncaring.
When the man travels on
Into the fullest prime moonlit night
He sees his shortcomings forgotten
And believes he is forever
But knows the edge of a silver bullet
Would dare to end his triumph
For infinity, only hateful spite it brings.
As the man blazes red eyes and
Gazes upon only the death of his
Adversaries and the like gone
From his worldly vision inside
But he cannot stop the madness
And he cannot stop the pain
Whenever, and gropes for the sharing.
The man searches for light and patience
But instead finds his own brutal
Impatience breeds his killer atmosphere
Into a state of knowing and dreaming
Of a time when coupling and loving
Could ease his unreal sureness
Forever, and bring him the least bit of caring.
Written - 09/04/00
As he unknowingly walks
Through the clouded days
Of life, love and unhappiness
He knows only the beast within
But knows not what it will do
The man is gone far into animalistic
Tendencies, and he sees transparent.
As he butchers and hunts
Through the winding trees
Of death, willows in despair
He thinks only with beast mode
Apparent immortal breathe
Of life and meaningless unfaithful
Misgivings, and he knows with daring.
As the beast becomes man
Again he seeks what it is
To know true freedom when
Time is an enemy and blood
Becomes the death of living
He serves his deadly sentence
Without, and finds love uncaring.
When the man travels on
Into the fullest prime moonlit night
He sees his shortcomings forgotten
And believes he is forever
But knows the edge of a silver bullet
Would dare to end his triumph
For infinity, only hateful spite it brings.
As the man blazes red eyes and
Gazes upon only the death of his
Adversaries and the like gone
From his worldly vision inside
But he cannot stop the madness
And he cannot stop the pain
Whenever, and gropes for the sharing.
The man searches for light and patience
But instead finds his own brutal
Impatience breeds his killer atmosphere
Into a state of knowing and dreaming
Of a time when coupling and loving
Could ease his unreal sureness
Forever, and bring him the least bit of caring.
Transformations
Transformations
Written - 08/25/00
Lift this curse of the bright yellow moon
And quell my hunger into my doom
Give me life on a petal with happier fences
And be gone from my internal senses.
As I wake in a sweat and soaked
I know the time for killing is close
And I bide my time as I begin completing
The beast to be will not deplete.
My snout which once held a human nose
Gives way into teeth and a mouth unclosed
My eyes burn with the fear of knowing
Transformation''s taking place, beginning to grow.
Thunderous sounds yield from my heart
As I fall to the floor before it really starts
My pulse quickens and I feel invigorated
Giving my human shell maximum grating.
Fingernails turn temporarily to claws
As I fight to stay a conscious human doll
And hair bleeds in terminally and quick
Letting my grooming appearance change thick.
Bones creak and crack as my legs stiffen
And my arms swell as the rest quickens
I howl in absolute pain for it is almost done
Those who come near take heed and run.
Written - 08/25/00
Lift this curse of the bright yellow moon
And quell my hunger into my doom
Give me life on a petal with happier fences
And be gone from my internal senses.
As I wake in a sweat and soaked
I know the time for killing is close
And I bide my time as I begin completing
The beast to be will not deplete.
My snout which once held a human nose
Gives way into teeth and a mouth unclosed
My eyes burn with the fear of knowing
Transformation''s taking place, beginning to grow.
Thunderous sounds yield from my heart
As I fall to the floor before it really starts
My pulse quickens and I feel invigorated
Giving my human shell maximum grating.
Fingernails turn temporarily to claws
As I fight to stay a conscious human doll
And hair bleeds in terminally and quick
Letting my grooming appearance change thick.
Bones creak and crack as my legs stiffen
And my arms swell as the rest quickens
I howl in absolute pain for it is almost done
Those who come near take heed and run.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Time
Time
Time waits for beast nor man
In his time he will be forced to see
That his soul wanders the thin line
Of The moonlight's utter reality.
In time's nakedness the moon's glare
Filters the menacing gaze through space
And the werewolf evolves complete
And the man dissolves in its place.
Blood soaked nights filled with glory
Mud drained mornings from a demon''s hunt
He is the monster all seek at the full
But beware of his bite and his grunt.
A spell has ripped this creature into stalking
And he smells human feasts on the rise
But all he cannot do becomes his folly
For it is the werewolf in him, he will despise.
The tree cinder with letters of full light
And the beast from within contorts
But the man fights and he cannot stop it
Because his after bite life has been at sorts.
Distinguishing right from wrong never gives him way
But he tries to find his humanity within
As the demon seed and hunter of need
He is carefree but he knows not where he''s been.
Now as this changeling of the moon ignites
His fury and pain becomes his battle
But the man once was a sparkle in the eye
That now holds him to this hellish rattle.
The man tries but cannot escape his fear
Of one day running into a deadly snag
As he roams the night air and whispers
The names of his victims his memory lags.
To this, oh beast of the night come forth
And bring upon your troubled heart as grounds
For the beginning of your mystic voyage
Seeking the knowledge and truth renowned.
Time waits for beast nor man
In his time he will be forced to see
That his soul wanders the thin line
Of The moonlight's utter reality.
In time's nakedness the moon's glare
Filters the menacing gaze through space
And the werewolf evolves complete
And the man dissolves in its place.
Blood soaked nights filled with glory
Mud drained mornings from a demon''s hunt
He is the monster all seek at the full
But beware of his bite and his grunt.
A spell has ripped this creature into stalking
And he smells human feasts on the rise
But all he cannot do becomes his folly
For it is the werewolf in him, he will despise.
The tree cinder with letters of full light
And the beast from within contorts
But the man fights and he cannot stop it
Because his after bite life has been at sorts.
Distinguishing right from wrong never gives him way
But he tries to find his humanity within
As the demon seed and hunter of need
He is carefree but he knows not where he''s been.
Now as this changeling of the moon ignites
His fury and pain becomes his battle
But the man once was a sparkle in the eye
That now holds him to this hellish rattle.
The man tries but cannot escape his fear
Of one day running into a deadly snag
As he roams the night air and whispers
The names of his victims his memory lags.
To this, oh beast of the night come forth
And bring upon your troubled heart as grounds
For the beginning of your mystic voyage
Seeking the knowledge and truth renowned.
The Stranger
The Stranger
As he stalks his next of prey the beast
Licks his chops and dreams of the taste,
The feel, the rations, of human blood.
He seeks with his killer intent the victim
Of his agnostic decent picking on the perfect,
The pretty, the futile, of his perfect vision.
Monstrous he prowls through the night
With a sense of passion taking his prey to the end,
The realm, and the beginning of a sated breathe.
His eyes shine brilliant green and his native body
Ripples with effect throughout the blackness,
The Darkened life, the undergrowth of humanity.
Fur threatens his skin as it has many nights before
And the werewolf becomes almost to the point,
The transportation, the finishing of a well-made product.
Muscles flex with desires beyond any other being
And this creature begins his night as the fiend,
The monster, the blessed beast of the full moon.
A slave to this nonsense and he cannot make it out
For the man has dissipated through the travels,
The time, and the killing of other souls lonely as he.
Transformation coming along slow and exceptionally sure
Werewolf, where are you and will you be coming for me,
For my mother, for my father or are you satisfied with recent kills?
No longer a man, Now nothing but unstoppable beast
Oh, wolf will you creep along so silently waiting,
Preying, and hoping to begin your quest tonight?
Now he must search for what he does not know
But when he finds his answers he will take the time,
The kill, the life of the next mortal man he falls upon.
So, let this be a warning,lock your doors and beware
Be very ware of things that go bump in the night,
The cold, the dark for he could be waiting for you.
As he stalks his next of prey the beast
Licks his chops and dreams of the taste,
The feel, the rations, of human blood.
He seeks with his killer intent the victim
Of his agnostic decent picking on the perfect,
The pretty, the futile, of his perfect vision.
Monstrous he prowls through the night
With a sense of passion taking his prey to the end,
The realm, and the beginning of a sated breathe.
His eyes shine brilliant green and his native body
Ripples with effect throughout the blackness,
The Darkened life, the undergrowth of humanity.
Fur threatens his skin as it has many nights before
And the werewolf becomes almost to the point,
The transportation, the finishing of a well-made product.
Muscles flex with desires beyond any other being
And this creature begins his night as the fiend,
The monster, the blessed beast of the full moon.
A slave to this nonsense and he cannot make it out
For the man has dissipated through the travels,
The time, and the killing of other souls lonely as he.
Transformation coming along slow and exceptionally sure
Werewolf, where are you and will you be coming for me,
For my mother, for my father or are you satisfied with recent kills?
No longer a man, Now nothing but unstoppable beast
Oh, wolf will you creep along so silently waiting,
Preying, and hoping to begin your quest tonight?
Now he must search for what he does not know
But when he finds his answers he will take the time,
The kill, the life of the next mortal man he falls upon.
So, let this be a warning,lock your doors and beware
Be very ware of things that go bump in the night,
The cold, the dark for he could be waiting for you.
The Moon Of Doom
The Moon of Doom
Written - 01/23/00
On this dreary night he roams through the empty streets
And he knows not his impending doom for he only believes
That he can live forever, but he is sure to see his fate
From his hiding place in the shadows near and far
Of this night he can say that love and time has faded away.
The beast within knows the untimely bounds of death
And life is just a stones throw away from his past
As he is now the hunted one lurking in the alleys
But does he know his life is at stake this moonlit night
And why does he hide when he is the aggressor and full with pride.
For he knows his time is short and he cannot make humans forget
His deeds of the past, for they do not understand his yearning
They do not understand his triumph, his pain, his agony
And they will strike him down in his hour or complete need
For the humans only see what they want and know where he should be.
This beast of night, oh how does he run when humans know the secrets?
Yet he stands true and fights when cornered and remembers very little
But this beast of the night will die before dawn from the relentless
And reckless misunderstanding of human ideas and thoughts
This beast deserves the finality of death, but can he yet preserve.
Alas, the wolf tracks his prey and cannot help himself as he feeds
On the weakness of death and the clueless importance’s of life
Oh, woe to you, the human who dares trap him and cross him
Woe to those who have kept him and how he flexes and pounces
Will the beast take human captives or will he himself live?
Written - 01/23/00
On this dreary night he roams through the empty streets
And he knows not his impending doom for he only believes
That he can live forever, but he is sure to see his fate
From his hiding place in the shadows near and far
Of this night he can say that love and time has faded away.
The beast within knows the untimely bounds of death
And life is just a stones throw away from his past
As he is now the hunted one lurking in the alleys
But does he know his life is at stake this moonlit night
And why does he hide when he is the aggressor and full with pride.
For he knows his time is short and he cannot make humans forget
His deeds of the past, for they do not understand his yearning
They do not understand his triumph, his pain, his agony
And they will strike him down in his hour or complete need
For the humans only see what they want and know where he should be.
This beast of night, oh how does he run when humans know the secrets?
Yet he stands true and fights when cornered and remembers very little
But this beast of the night will die before dawn from the relentless
And reckless misunderstanding of human ideas and thoughts
This beast deserves the finality of death, but can he yet preserve.
Alas, the wolf tracks his prey and cannot help himself as he feeds
On the weakness of death and the clueless importance’s of life
Oh, woe to you, the human who dares trap him and cross him
Woe to those who have kept him and how he flexes and pounces
Will the beast take human captives or will he himself live?
Stricken
Copyright: 8/8/98
Stricken
The man, surely in panic screams with terror
Horror and sublime interest grip his awaiting soul
The beast has come to devour
The feast begins here.
As its teeth gnash and peel at his flesh he sighs
Time has abruptly come to a horrid end
The thing is stalking in the night
The man is stricken.
In definitely, the man struggles against his attacker
And he feels the sensation of trickling blood from his pores
The close is upon him
The beast evokes his habit.
With sheer horrifying will, the man manages to grab hold
To its horn with some inner strength he new not of possessing
The light is coming
The hour in time of need.
It rears its ugly head and pursues the man, reveling in capture
And with every step, the man bogs down in trenched soot
The end is near
The man is stricken.
Clawing frantically to anything of particular hold the man weeps
For he knows not what is chasing him, but with certainty knows his fate
The man's struggle finished
The man stretches a dying hand.
As the man prays for darkness to take him and for this horror to stop
He realizes his folly and breathes easily for it is not his life
But that of a dream.
The man is stricken.
Stricken
The man, surely in panic screams with terror
Horror and sublime interest grip his awaiting soul
The beast has come to devour
The feast begins here.
As its teeth gnash and peel at his flesh he sighs
Time has abruptly come to a horrid end
The thing is stalking in the night
The man is stricken.
In definitely, the man struggles against his attacker
And he feels the sensation of trickling blood from his pores
The close is upon him
The beast evokes his habit.
With sheer horrifying will, the man manages to grab hold
To its horn with some inner strength he new not of possessing
The light is coming
The hour in time of need.
It rears its ugly head and pursues the man, reveling in capture
And with every step, the man bogs down in trenched soot
The end is near
The man is stricken.
Clawing frantically to anything of particular hold the man weeps
For he knows not what is chasing him, but with certainty knows his fate
The man's struggle finished
The man stretches a dying hand.
As the man prays for darkness to take him and for this horror to stop
He realizes his folly and breathes easily for it is not his life
But that of a dream.
The man is stricken.
Seething
Seething
Written - 05/20/00
Oh, you dark and vile creature how I hunt your existence
As I find you I know you shall be unfortunate and willing
As I find the answers to my beloved's death I will
Seek your mane as payment and get my revenge worth
For the ghost of evil cannot, will not live forever
And I will hunt you ''til the day I meet my maker
Oh, you ignorant fool how I pity your fruitless attempts
And I give you everlasting life through the slight of death.
Oh, you evil bastard demon of the dead of night
I will not succumb to your life in my contempt
And I will hunt you and your children ''til they die
Upon your death I am the truth you seek and the power
You will not devour my strength, I now live it out
In front of your dying breathless rags and my rage
Envelopes your virile consciousness and I know
Oh, you unbeliever of the silver night of lies, take your final breath.
Oh, you shallow troubled fiend, you shall bow to my feet
As a human I will see you bleed and the time is soon
You have made your last hunt and your last kill
My reality takes your thin shred of life and decomposes it
Until you are therefore drained of your last right to the night
I shall rule your clan and end their sorrow in time
But, for not my love I will vow to you that dying is near
And the silver that protrudes from my weapon remarks your name.
Oh, you infantile unworthy monster I have watched you so
And I know your travel better than you for you are indefinitely
A immortal creature of habit and I will not be forsaken from my
Mortal task as I know the taste of revenge is so sweet
And for my beloved I make you sure of my intentions
As for you ending the insane game of moonlit nights
Woe to you beast and be clear that your time here
Has depleted into a nonexistent future of the same.
Written - 05/20/00
Oh, you dark and vile creature how I hunt your existence
As I find you I know you shall be unfortunate and willing
As I find the answers to my beloved's death I will
Seek your mane as payment and get my revenge worth
For the ghost of evil cannot, will not live forever
And I will hunt you ''til the day I meet my maker
Oh, you ignorant fool how I pity your fruitless attempts
And I give you everlasting life through the slight of death.
Oh, you evil bastard demon of the dead of night
I will not succumb to your life in my contempt
And I will hunt you and your children ''til they die
Upon your death I am the truth you seek and the power
You will not devour my strength, I now live it out
In front of your dying breathless rags and my rage
Envelopes your virile consciousness and I know
Oh, you unbeliever of the silver night of lies, take your final breath.
Oh, you shallow troubled fiend, you shall bow to my feet
As a human I will see you bleed and the time is soon
You have made your last hunt and your last kill
My reality takes your thin shred of life and decomposes it
Until you are therefore drained of your last right to the night
I shall rule your clan and end their sorrow in time
But, for not my love I will vow to you that dying is near
And the silver that protrudes from my weapon remarks your name.
Oh, you infantile unworthy monster I have watched you so
And I know your travel better than you for you are indefinitely
A immortal creature of habit and I will not be forsaken from my
Mortal task as I know the taste of revenge is so sweet
And for my beloved I make you sure of my intentions
As for you ending the insane game of moonlit nights
Woe to you beast and be clear that your time here
Has depleted into a nonexistent future of the same.
Moonspell
Copyright - 03/10/00
Moonspell
Phases no one out of shape
These entwine and begin anew
Starting and finishing life’s quakes
Moonspell brings love to full.
Tiny craters mark battles once fought
Forget me nots and string brief affair
Of the heart and night of loves sought
Moonspell relieves the game to quest.
Men and aliens may rest in there
Life giving joy in unbridled passion
Lovers and quarrelsome answers swear
That the moonspell affects us all.
Gathering trinkets old when it’s full
Believing in past lives the spell is
The one giving factor illuminate in blue
Moonspell the goddess creates happiness.
No treachery or trickery shall fail
The night’s unanswered questions
In those unbelieving and frail
The moonspell completes us all.
Dancing in the shadows as the light
Cast its heavenly glow on a face
Belaying the Godly beauty and insight
Moonspell traces its rays so openly.
When it’s the fullest powers strong
Granting moonchildren it’s independence
And lifting heads and hands in its song
Moonspell infuses love and life.
All is calm and the night is dark
As from the east a faint bird call
The light of the sun dispels the lark
Moonspell hides ‘til another night.
Moonspell
Phases no one out of shape
These entwine and begin anew
Starting and finishing life’s quakes
Moonspell brings love to full.
Tiny craters mark battles once fought
Forget me nots and string brief affair
Of the heart and night of loves sought
Moonspell relieves the game to quest.
Men and aliens may rest in there
Life giving joy in unbridled passion
Lovers and quarrelsome answers swear
That the moonspell affects us all.
Gathering trinkets old when it’s full
Believing in past lives the spell is
The one giving factor illuminate in blue
Moonspell the goddess creates happiness.
No treachery or trickery shall fail
The night’s unanswered questions
In those unbelieving and frail
The moonspell completes us all.
Dancing in the shadows as the light
Cast its heavenly glow on a face
Belaying the Godly beauty and insight
Moonspell traces its rays so openly.
When it’s the fullest powers strong
Granting moonchildren it’s independence
And lifting heads and hands in its song
Moonspell infuses love and life.
All is calm and the night is dark
As from the east a faint bird call
The light of the sun dispels the lark
Moonspell hides ‘til another night.
Midnight
Midnight
At the stroke of midnight the being develops
Into something and he is not sure
What is to become of him in the lure?
But the moon is full and he howls his hope.
The man transforms into a beast he know not
Into something ungrateful and evil
What is to become of his kills?
But the dividing continues and evil it''s brought.
Unknowing to his future he screams out in pain
But he cannot seem to remember
What was it to make him concur?
And as the fall of humanity proceeds he sees no gain.
At the stroke of midnight he is cursed from now on
To live out the rest of his days as beast
What was it that happened for this feast?
Whatever was once human is now far gone.
Midnight begins it and daybreak will it end
The man is animal and cannot choose right and wrong
What did he do to deserve this and belong?
Is he free? Will he ever be able to mend?
At the stroke of midnight humanity drifted away
For this man has left us all for a stranger reality
What mindset is he cowering to be free?
And will he come back from agony and decay?
At the stroke of midnight the being develops
Into something and he is not sure
What is to become of him in the lure?
But the moon is full and he howls his hope.
The man transforms into a beast he know not
Into something ungrateful and evil
What is to become of his kills?
But the dividing continues and evil it''s brought.
Unknowing to his future he screams out in pain
But he cannot seem to remember
What was it to make him concur?
And as the fall of humanity proceeds he sees no gain.
At the stroke of midnight he is cursed from now on
To live out the rest of his days as beast
What was it that happened for this feast?
Whatever was once human is now far gone.
Midnight begins it and daybreak will it end
The man is animal and cannot choose right and wrong
What did he do to deserve this and belong?
Is he free? Will he ever be able to mend?
At the stroke of midnight humanity drifted away
For this man has left us all for a stranger reality
What mindset is he cowering to be free?
And will he come back from agony and decay?
Killer Instinct
Killer Instinct
Copyright Demented Thinking Productions 1998
Through his entire adult life Grady Ruthledge cowered to no one, and he wasn't about to start tonight. Granted, when he was a small child he cowered in the sight of his father brandishing a switch as rage tore through his overgrown facial features. But, not on this night. Not on the night Grady had won the most prestigious award in the inner circles of lawyers and judges. This was his night and he wasn't about to let anything or anyone screw it up for him. Grady had become his own man and slithered out from under daddy's impersonal thumb. No, not tonight. It was perfect and nothing would sway Grady otherwise.
Grady plopped on a green park bench within the confines of the nasty, dirty city and fished into his black trench coat for his prize of prizes. Pulling it out and admiring the craftsmanship of the small trophy, Grady rubbed it profusely as if it was a magic lamp indicating a instant genie that would pop out and grant Grady three long awaited wishes. Easily slipping it back into his coat, Grady took a deep breath of the night air allowing the smog, smoke and steam to milk his lungs into a coughing fit. As Grady's swallow of life eased he thought he distinctly heard a scuffle in the bushes behind the park bench he sat upon.
As he turned up the darkened street, his senses came to an upright full alert position. Ruthledge scoped the alleyway noticing ever nook and crevice as he stepped into the tiny corridor of street only drug pushers and criminals he usually prosecuted presided. Try as he might, Grady could not shake the impenetrable eyes, which he felt following his every move. His pulse raced and beads of cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
His palms became sweaty and he licked his lips, as he looked frantically around for a weapon, any kind of weapon he could use against the stalker who now invaded his good evening. Anything would do, a lead pipe, some garbage, hell, he'd settle for a shoe left behind for his amazement and discovery by some old bum too drunk to realize that he had one shoe on and one shoe off. Right now what Grady needed was an edge, some kind of life preserver to swing down and pluck him from the depths of eternal drowning as nothing else could. Instead, he found an old wooden spoon with battle scars of it's own wedged deep into the spoon edge itself. It looked like hell and as if someone had used it for a teething ring, but it would have to do. Ruthledge gripped the spoon tightly in hopes it's demeanor alone would be enough to scare off the most unfriendly visitor, but knowing deep down inside it would be no match for what he was about to encounter.
He waited. He waited for what seemed like years before he heard quiet scuffling noises and labored, heavy, stale breathing projecting from the opposite end of the blackened alleyway. Licking his dry lips, Grady gripped the wooden spoon tighter until his fingers bled through red and then white. Random thoughts cruised through his head with an ineptness that was startling. The beast was coming and it was hungry.
Ruthledge stood with his back to the cold brick wall holding his breath without realizing it wishing this nightmare would just go away and leave him alone. It seemed as though days ago Grady had won that silly award and at this moment it really did not seem all that important to him anymore even though it had only been a few panicked moments before. Tightening his trap-like grip on the spoon, Grady prayed the creature would give up looking for him and leave as he crouched behind a cardboard box. Grady instinctively knew his prayers would not be enough considering this particular beast had a better sense of smell than others and it would surely find him snibbling like a baby behind a box of all things. "The late and great Grady Ruthledge reduced to tears in a dirty alley behind a cardboard box. Wonderful headlines," Grady breathed.
Grady Ruthledge broke out into a cold sweat as the wooden spoon slipped from his hand making a penciled thunk sound on the pavement. Quickly picking up the only weapon of choice, he hoped the unfamiliar sound went unrecognized and unnoticed by his immediate companion. It did not. Grady's eyes shifted left and then right looking for what would be the last thing to see him alive and kicking. He poured sweat now and could not hold on to his own stomach contents much less the spoon even though he held true to it.
Before he could move, blink, think, or breathe the beast was upon him, licking its lips and drooling piles of spittle on Grady's already soaked forehead. Grady gasped and completely forgot about his mighty spoon as he dropped it to the concrete again.
The man sized creature appeared to study Grady Ruthledge as though he was some kind of science project dredged up from a past biology class. It's lips parted and it bared its sharp fangs voicing a low, guttural growl, which expelled from somewhere deep within in its huge, hairy throat. The monster's eyes blazed red with the hint of brown they normally were. Grey and black fur covered the creature's entire body and a rank smell drifted into Grady's lungs as he gagged back the vomit, which was threatening to spew from one end of the alleyway to the other. It was half man and half beast, but at that very moment Grady swore it was more a beast than any man he'd ever seen in his life.
As the monster seized Grady Ruthledge it occurred to him that it was a beast of the old legends he had heard and read about as a small child. Once when he was seven he intermingled into a conversation of older elders of the community talking about the curse of the werewolves in these parts. But never had he dreamed for one second there was an inkling of truth to these wild tales, until now. In a moment the wolf was upon him, tearing and ripping his flesh and arms out of their sockets. Grady uttered his last, weak plea for help and laid helpless as the werewolf finished what it started only moments before.
Three blocks away Simon Wright heard Grady Ruthledge's final cries descending through the night air followed by an eerie silence and he knew it was time to get moving before it was too late. He glanced at his wristwatch and made a minor adjustment hitting the stopwatch button. As Simon threw on his hat and coat, he quickly rechecked all his gear for any disturbances or glitches that may hinder his ability to protect himself from the oncoming onslaught. He had everything, his gun; or weapon his father would of said, silver bullets with a spare cartridge, his Hank Aaron baseball bat, and a silver handled hunting knife his father had given to him on his first hunt at the ripe young age of fourteen.
Simon had rigged his leather trench coat especially for all these items and more. On some nights, when the moon was completely full and he had some reason to believe he would encounter more that one beast on the prowl, Simon would carry an extra 12 gauge shotgun under his coat and his .45 pistol, just in case. Simon Wright cautiously stepped out of his tiny apartment and while taking a deep breath generating fresh air over his lungs, he felt exhilarated for the struggle of life and death would soon be upon him as it always was once a month during the full phases of the moon. Simon silently strolled down the metropolis sidewalk moving quickly to the destination he heard the last screams coming from. He walked carefully and fully alert with his hands poised just above the butt end of his .357 magnum revolver.
Every since Simon was a small child he'd heard the same stories Grady Ruthledge did and he took them a little more seriously. Simon came from a long line of hunters. His father, his grandfather, and many more Wrights down through the ages of every walk of life were hunters of the night. Like any other man in his late thirties Simon held down a daytime job. He was a respected gunsmith, which was also a trade passed down from father to son in his family. It was somehow easier to produce a silver bullet if you were a gunsmith by trade yourself, whether than having to worry about the numerous questions that would be asked about the melting and making of several different calibers of bullets by an outsider. An outsider would raise an eyebrow of suspicion and Simon certainly did not need that. Simon made this decision the moment he took the prized hunting knife from his father, accepting his job as a hunter and a gunsmith. It was a living and Simon actually liked it. It wasn’t bad. It paid the bills and Simon never wanted for a thing.
Simon moved swiftly and silently, darting in and out of alleyways with a speed and endurance most mortal men did not possess let alone dream of while keeping a vigilant lookout for the creature he would soon come into contact with. Half an hour had passed and he had found nothing to clue him in to the beasts last whereabouts. Finding Grady’s broken and bruised body lying in a pool of its making, Simon sensed his blood beginning to pump faster into its chambers. The usual goose bumps rose on his sweating arms and the tiny hairs at nape of his neck began to prickle and dance alerting him he was not alone in the dirty, drab alley. Spinning around faster than he intended to, Simon caught his balance just in time before he completely toppled over like an absolute fool. With it’s bloodied teeth bared and growling deep from within it’s throat the beast spoke, “Well, it seems we meet again, hunter.” Blood dripped from it’s bottom lip as it spit out the word hunter like it was foul and distasteful. The enormous creature’s eyes blazed a bright red with undaunted fury upon Simon as it appeared to examine him from inside out.
In amazement that the beast even spoke to him, Simon stuttered, “I…it…it would s…seem s…so.” As he tried to place where he’d heard the voice before even as distorted as it was the beast saw its opportunity and flung itself upon him in a rage. Simon quickly thrust the baseball bat upwards without thinking holding off the gnashing teeth temporarily with all his might and strength. He fumbled in his pockets while he held off the beast for anything that would inflict some damaging harm to his attacker. Blindly finding his knife, Simon punched it up through his jacket and into the awaiting belly of the creature jerking it in an upwards motion as far as it would allowably go. The werewolf howled in fury and pain. Yanking the knife out in a frenzy, Simon hopped up from the ground and began his hasty retreat. Blood gushed out of the open wound as the animal let out a high pitched scream wallowing in it’s agony. The beast slowly got up with some difficulty holding it’s innards in place and scurried off into the inane shadows all the while swearing, “I’ll get you hunter! You haven’t seen the last of me yet!” The growling screams faded into the moonlit night as the beast traveled further and further away from Simon.
Deciding he’d had enough excitement for one night, Simon staggered back to his one room apartment slightly dazed and with extreme caution. He re-gained more of his strength the closer he came to home and he began to relax a little. While he drug out his keyring with shaking hands, he glanced over his shoulder keeping a close eye out for anymore surprises even though he knew his internal senses would alert him to danger before his eyes perceived it. He unlocked the two deadbolts on the barred iron gate and started on the steel door. Fumbling with the lock he quietly mumbled to himself, “Damn it, Simon, get it together.” As he forged the last key into the fifth deadbolt on his front door he couldn’t help but think he knew his attacker. The sound of its voice echoed in his head like a song played too much on the radio.
Copyright Demented Thinking Productions 1998
Through his entire adult life Grady Ruthledge cowered to no one, and he wasn't about to start tonight. Granted, when he was a small child he cowered in the sight of his father brandishing a switch as rage tore through his overgrown facial features. But, not on this night. Not on the night Grady had won the most prestigious award in the inner circles of lawyers and judges. This was his night and he wasn't about to let anything or anyone screw it up for him. Grady had become his own man and slithered out from under daddy's impersonal thumb. No, not tonight. It was perfect and nothing would sway Grady otherwise.
Grady plopped on a green park bench within the confines of the nasty, dirty city and fished into his black trench coat for his prize of prizes. Pulling it out and admiring the craftsmanship of the small trophy, Grady rubbed it profusely as if it was a magic lamp indicating a instant genie that would pop out and grant Grady three long awaited wishes. Easily slipping it back into his coat, Grady took a deep breath of the night air allowing the smog, smoke and steam to milk his lungs into a coughing fit. As Grady's swallow of life eased he thought he distinctly heard a scuffle in the bushes behind the park bench he sat upon.
As he turned up the darkened street, his senses came to an upright full alert position. Ruthledge scoped the alleyway noticing ever nook and crevice as he stepped into the tiny corridor of street only drug pushers and criminals he usually prosecuted presided. Try as he might, Grady could not shake the impenetrable eyes, which he felt following his every move. His pulse raced and beads of cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
His palms became sweaty and he licked his lips, as he looked frantically around for a weapon, any kind of weapon he could use against the stalker who now invaded his good evening. Anything would do, a lead pipe, some garbage, hell, he'd settle for a shoe left behind for his amazement and discovery by some old bum too drunk to realize that he had one shoe on and one shoe off. Right now what Grady needed was an edge, some kind of life preserver to swing down and pluck him from the depths of eternal drowning as nothing else could. Instead, he found an old wooden spoon with battle scars of it's own wedged deep into the spoon edge itself. It looked like hell and as if someone had used it for a teething ring, but it would have to do. Ruthledge gripped the spoon tightly in hopes it's demeanor alone would be enough to scare off the most unfriendly visitor, but knowing deep down inside it would be no match for what he was about to encounter.
He waited. He waited for what seemed like years before he heard quiet scuffling noises and labored, heavy, stale breathing projecting from the opposite end of the blackened alleyway. Licking his dry lips, Grady gripped the wooden spoon tighter until his fingers bled through red and then white. Random thoughts cruised through his head with an ineptness that was startling. The beast was coming and it was hungry.
Ruthledge stood with his back to the cold brick wall holding his breath without realizing it wishing this nightmare would just go away and leave him alone. It seemed as though days ago Grady had won that silly award and at this moment it really did not seem all that important to him anymore even though it had only been a few panicked moments before. Tightening his trap-like grip on the spoon, Grady prayed the creature would give up looking for him and leave as he crouched behind a cardboard box. Grady instinctively knew his prayers would not be enough considering this particular beast had a better sense of smell than others and it would surely find him snibbling like a baby behind a box of all things. "The late and great Grady Ruthledge reduced to tears in a dirty alley behind a cardboard box. Wonderful headlines," Grady breathed.
Grady Ruthledge broke out into a cold sweat as the wooden spoon slipped from his hand making a penciled thunk sound on the pavement. Quickly picking up the only weapon of choice, he hoped the unfamiliar sound went unrecognized and unnoticed by his immediate companion. It did not. Grady's eyes shifted left and then right looking for what would be the last thing to see him alive and kicking. He poured sweat now and could not hold on to his own stomach contents much less the spoon even though he held true to it.
Before he could move, blink, think, or breathe the beast was upon him, licking its lips and drooling piles of spittle on Grady's already soaked forehead. Grady gasped and completely forgot about his mighty spoon as he dropped it to the concrete again.
The man sized creature appeared to study Grady Ruthledge as though he was some kind of science project dredged up from a past biology class. It's lips parted and it bared its sharp fangs voicing a low, guttural growl, which expelled from somewhere deep within in its huge, hairy throat. The monster's eyes blazed red with the hint of brown they normally were. Grey and black fur covered the creature's entire body and a rank smell drifted into Grady's lungs as he gagged back the vomit, which was threatening to spew from one end of the alleyway to the other. It was half man and half beast, but at that very moment Grady swore it was more a beast than any man he'd ever seen in his life.
As the monster seized Grady Ruthledge it occurred to him that it was a beast of the old legends he had heard and read about as a small child. Once when he was seven he intermingled into a conversation of older elders of the community talking about the curse of the werewolves in these parts. But never had he dreamed for one second there was an inkling of truth to these wild tales, until now. In a moment the wolf was upon him, tearing and ripping his flesh and arms out of their sockets. Grady uttered his last, weak plea for help and laid helpless as the werewolf finished what it started only moments before.
Three blocks away Simon Wright heard Grady Ruthledge's final cries descending through the night air followed by an eerie silence and he knew it was time to get moving before it was too late. He glanced at his wristwatch and made a minor adjustment hitting the stopwatch button. As Simon threw on his hat and coat, he quickly rechecked all his gear for any disturbances or glitches that may hinder his ability to protect himself from the oncoming onslaught. He had everything, his gun; or weapon his father would of said, silver bullets with a spare cartridge, his Hank Aaron baseball bat, and a silver handled hunting knife his father had given to him on his first hunt at the ripe young age of fourteen.
Simon had rigged his leather trench coat especially for all these items and more. On some nights, when the moon was completely full and he had some reason to believe he would encounter more that one beast on the prowl, Simon would carry an extra 12 gauge shotgun under his coat and his .45 pistol, just in case. Simon Wright cautiously stepped out of his tiny apartment and while taking a deep breath generating fresh air over his lungs, he felt exhilarated for the struggle of life and death would soon be upon him as it always was once a month during the full phases of the moon. Simon silently strolled down the metropolis sidewalk moving quickly to the destination he heard the last screams coming from. He walked carefully and fully alert with his hands poised just above the butt end of his .357 magnum revolver.
Every since Simon was a small child he'd heard the same stories Grady Ruthledge did and he took them a little more seriously. Simon came from a long line of hunters. His father, his grandfather, and many more Wrights down through the ages of every walk of life were hunters of the night. Like any other man in his late thirties Simon held down a daytime job. He was a respected gunsmith, which was also a trade passed down from father to son in his family. It was somehow easier to produce a silver bullet if you were a gunsmith by trade yourself, whether than having to worry about the numerous questions that would be asked about the melting and making of several different calibers of bullets by an outsider. An outsider would raise an eyebrow of suspicion and Simon certainly did not need that. Simon made this decision the moment he took the prized hunting knife from his father, accepting his job as a hunter and a gunsmith. It was a living and Simon actually liked it. It wasn’t bad. It paid the bills and Simon never wanted for a thing.
Simon moved swiftly and silently, darting in and out of alleyways with a speed and endurance most mortal men did not possess let alone dream of while keeping a vigilant lookout for the creature he would soon come into contact with. Half an hour had passed and he had found nothing to clue him in to the beasts last whereabouts. Finding Grady’s broken and bruised body lying in a pool of its making, Simon sensed his blood beginning to pump faster into its chambers. The usual goose bumps rose on his sweating arms and the tiny hairs at nape of his neck began to prickle and dance alerting him he was not alone in the dirty, drab alley. Spinning around faster than he intended to, Simon caught his balance just in time before he completely toppled over like an absolute fool. With it’s bloodied teeth bared and growling deep from within it’s throat the beast spoke, “Well, it seems we meet again, hunter.” Blood dripped from it’s bottom lip as it spit out the word hunter like it was foul and distasteful. The enormous creature’s eyes blazed a bright red with undaunted fury upon Simon as it appeared to examine him from inside out.
In amazement that the beast even spoke to him, Simon stuttered, “I…it…it would s…seem s…so.” As he tried to place where he’d heard the voice before even as distorted as it was the beast saw its opportunity and flung itself upon him in a rage. Simon quickly thrust the baseball bat upwards without thinking holding off the gnashing teeth temporarily with all his might and strength. He fumbled in his pockets while he held off the beast for anything that would inflict some damaging harm to his attacker. Blindly finding his knife, Simon punched it up through his jacket and into the awaiting belly of the creature jerking it in an upwards motion as far as it would allowably go. The werewolf howled in fury and pain. Yanking the knife out in a frenzy, Simon hopped up from the ground and began his hasty retreat. Blood gushed out of the open wound as the animal let out a high pitched scream wallowing in it’s agony. The beast slowly got up with some difficulty holding it’s innards in place and scurried off into the inane shadows all the while swearing, “I’ll get you hunter! You haven’t seen the last of me yet!” The growling screams faded into the moonlit night as the beast traveled further and further away from Simon.
Deciding he’d had enough excitement for one night, Simon staggered back to his one room apartment slightly dazed and with extreme caution. He re-gained more of his strength the closer he came to home and he began to relax a little. While he drug out his keyring with shaking hands, he glanced over his shoulder keeping a close eye out for anymore surprises even though he knew his internal senses would alert him to danger before his eyes perceived it. He unlocked the two deadbolts on the barred iron gate and started on the steel door. Fumbling with the lock he quietly mumbled to himself, “Damn it, Simon, get it together.” As he forged the last key into the fifth deadbolt on his front door he couldn’t help but think he knew his attacker. The sound of its voice echoed in his head like a song played too much on the radio.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
In Agony
In Agony
Written - 01/24/99
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot make this pain stop
And if I could take my life
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is make the hurting
Go far away as the birds do
And give strength to overcome
This violent sickness from within.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot realize my own destiny
And if I could take notice
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is the moon''s light
Does not shine upon me this night
And give me a reprieve from hell
A reprieve from deadly sin.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot see or think with clear visions
And if I could implore my humanity
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is the smell of fresh blood
Does not move me into the darkened streets
And settle me down with another victim
But a man must kill to eat.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot taste the sour path laid before me
And if I could soften my palate
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is this freak power doesn't maul
My life into nothing and give me death
'Tis the time for demon doings
In this belittled market of meat.
Written - 01/24/99
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot make this pain stop
And if I could take my life
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is make the hurting
Go far away as the birds do
And give strength to overcome
This violent sickness from within.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot realize my own destiny
And if I could take notice
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is the moon''s light
Does not shine upon me this night
And give me a reprieve from hell
A reprieve from deadly sin.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot see or think with clear visions
And if I could implore my humanity
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is the smell of fresh blood
Does not move me into the darkened streets
And settle me down with another victim
But a man must kill to eat.
Oh, I am in so much agony
I cannot taste the sour path laid before me
And if I could soften my palate
I surely would
If I surely could
All I ask is this freak power doesn't maul
My life into nothing and give me death
'Tis the time for demon doings
In this belittled market of meat.
Immortal Bite
Immortal Bite
Written - 03/10/99
Come one, come all and live a demon's life
See the starvation and the need to be free
From deprivation and all of the things since
That has definitely startled thee.
Alas, the bite is the worst, for it knows no bounds
And the man becomes an animal, caged inside
From all the timeless wonders he must now share
With the werewolf, he must now collide.
The immortal bite is a vicious bite
For it has no realms to enforce its nature
And it has no specialized selection
The man can only succumb to its rites.
Ripping and tearing the motion subdues
Even the hardest human to ever walk the earth
In pride and with absence of rebirth
The man is no more, hell fire he now spews.
From a tiny immortal coil the bite blazes
Into the very depths of a man''s soul
And as the blood travels to the heart again
The man becomes enraged and crazed.
Animal instinct takes thoughtfully over
As the man fights with his internal attacker
Hell has never been so relieved
As this man tonight without cover.
What is happening to me? He says
In an attempt at humanity once again
The man knows right from wrong
But will not decipher, at the moon he bays.
Written - 03/10/99
Come one, come all and live a demon's life
See the starvation and the need to be free
From deprivation and all of the things since
That has definitely startled thee.
Alas, the bite is the worst, for it knows no bounds
And the man becomes an animal, caged inside
From all the timeless wonders he must now share
With the werewolf, he must now collide.
The immortal bite is a vicious bite
For it has no realms to enforce its nature
And it has no specialized selection
The man can only succumb to its rites.
Ripping and tearing the motion subdues
Even the hardest human to ever walk the earth
In pride and with absence of rebirth
The man is no more, hell fire he now spews.
From a tiny immortal coil the bite blazes
Into the very depths of a man''s soul
And as the blood travels to the heart again
The man becomes enraged and crazed.
Animal instinct takes thoughtfully over
As the man fights with his internal attacker
Hell has never been so relieved
As this man tonight without cover.
What is happening to me? He says
In an attempt at humanity once again
The man knows right from wrong
But will not decipher, at the moon he bays.
Howling
Howling
Written - 04/20/99
The moon rises in the night air
For it ''tis midnight, the hour of evil
A man walks to himself down a dark street
And shifts through thoughts of the last
As he whistles softly a saintly tune
He hears footsteps indefinitely behind him
And he stops for his heart pumps too loud
The vial of the hourglass descends
And the man senses his dying mistake
As the wolf springs from nowhere and everywhere.
Fighting to gain his life in his own hands
The man swears under his dying breath
For does he know this evil, dark being
Wrapped tight around his pale throat
He catches a whiff of flowers in bloom
And it''s too late he is weak and tired
For this monster has wrestled with his strength
And he feels no more the pain of death
Laying about the ground in an awful fright
Praying for his soul but making no demands.
The blood pumps furiously and subsides
Has the man lost his life and death struggle?
His weakened heart gives way to the beast
And he ceases to move as the light fades
Hearing slowly fades away until in a bubble
And the man thinks his last thoughts
Darkness descends in his now feeble mind
As he passes on he could swear hearing
The high piercing howl of a wolf nearby
But instead decides it is his own inept cries.
Written - 04/20/99
The moon rises in the night air
For it ''tis midnight, the hour of evil
A man walks to himself down a dark street
And shifts through thoughts of the last
As he whistles softly a saintly tune
He hears footsteps indefinitely behind him
And he stops for his heart pumps too loud
The vial of the hourglass descends
And the man senses his dying mistake
As the wolf springs from nowhere and everywhere.
Fighting to gain his life in his own hands
The man swears under his dying breath
For does he know this evil, dark being
Wrapped tight around his pale throat
He catches a whiff of flowers in bloom
And it''s too late he is weak and tired
For this monster has wrestled with his strength
And he feels no more the pain of death
Laying about the ground in an awful fright
Praying for his soul but making no demands.
The blood pumps furiously and subsides
Has the man lost his life and death struggle?
His weakened heart gives way to the beast
And he ceases to move as the light fades
Hearing slowly fades away until in a bubble
And the man thinks his last thoughts
Darkness descends in his now feeble mind
As he passes on he could swear hearing
The high piercing howl of a wolf nearby
But instead decides it is his own inept cries.
Fraying the Ends of Sanity
Fraying the Ends of Sanity
As he wakes the beast is gone
And what of his feats as an animal
What did he do?
He slumbers in the underbrush
But realizes not how he got there
The man blinks back the tears
Have the insane and remembering his fears.
As he stands he notices his apparel
Why is it gone and where did he put it?
What did he do?
He slinks back into the bushes
Looking for what is truly his
The man mumbles to himself frantically
Fraying his ends of sanity.
He descends into the deepest depths
Of his crippled mind and finds out
What he did do
He slouches into a fetal ball
Moaning all the while in corruption of pain
Crying he finds his dirtied clothes
What he's done, he now knows.
Flashbacks of a night of killing come into view
And the man covers his bloodshot eyes
Why did he do it?
Answers come none too soon or easy
Sobbing now with pathetic grief
And willing himself dead for the life he owns
But for now he just lays for hours and moans.
Self-pity and wallowing distrust govern him
And the man covers his naked body
What has he done?
To deserve this life in everlasting hell
Bleeding for the cause and feeling nothing
Puts on his best smile hiding himself completely
And riding the fraying ends of sanity.
As he wakes the beast is gone
And what of his feats as an animal
What did he do?
He slumbers in the underbrush
But realizes not how he got there
The man blinks back the tears
Have the insane and remembering his fears.
As he stands he notices his apparel
Why is it gone and where did he put it?
What did he do?
He slinks back into the bushes
Looking for what is truly his
The man mumbles to himself frantically
Fraying his ends of sanity.
He descends into the deepest depths
Of his crippled mind and finds out
What he did do
He slouches into a fetal ball
Moaning all the while in corruption of pain
Crying he finds his dirtied clothes
What he's done, he now knows.
Flashbacks of a night of killing come into view
And the man covers his bloodshot eyes
Why did he do it?
Answers come none too soon or easy
Sobbing now with pathetic grief
And willing himself dead for the life he owns
But for now he just lays for hours and moans.
Self-pity and wallowing distrust govern him
And the man covers his naked body
What has he done?
To deserve this life in everlasting hell
Bleeding for the cause and feeling nothing
Puts on his best smile hiding himself completely
And riding the fraying ends of sanity.
Demon's Kiss
Demon's Kiss
The human wanders through the night
Desperately seeking solace and solitude
But instead he should find
He could find
Something he is not prepared for
Something he never imagine existed
For the werewolf hunts at the full moon
And will gladly deliver the demon's kiss.
The human looks despairingly on his thoughts
Desperately seeking the passion he once had
But instead he should find
He could find
Something he had not waited for
Something he was not ready for
For the werewolf bites are almost fatal
And it will find the human with its thirst.
The human walks through the darkest alleys
And thinks to himself unaware and unfounded
But instead he should pay attention
He could notice
Something is waiting for him in shadows
Something hungry and unknowingly evil
For the werewolf have many unwanted attributes
And it will hunt until the very dawn.
The human roams through the obscure streets
And talks to himself lonely and confused
But instead he should be alert
He should listen
Something is trailing him, stalking him
Something not quite human not beast
For the werewolf is somewhere in between
And it knows not what it does to the fawns.
The human comes alive and aware of his destiny
And creeps into a dark corner hoping and waiting
But instead he should be running
He could run
Something is behind him and breathing hard
Something has answered his call of loneliness
For the werewolf knows deep down inside
That it's the demon's kiss, which keep it sacred.
The human crouches in the shadows alert
And momentarily shortens his breaths
But instead he should beware
He could beware
Something is touching his shoulder
Something horrid and starved for affection
For the werewolf never thinks before killing
The beast pounces and the man finds himself naked.
The human starts the chase and runs from the scars
And he somehow manages to escape from it's evil
But instead he should be ready
He could be ready
Something has changed him from within
Something is not quite right in his head
For the werewolf has bitten him and he can see
That he is maimed and mauled, but alive.
The human wakes the very next day incoherent
And wonders why all the mischief roams in his mind
But instead he should find refuge
He could find refuge
Something has given him lifelong bad dreams
Something is just around the corner but he knows not
For the werewolf comes at the next full moon
And he will lose all sanity as he connives.
The human goes on with his mundane life
And struggles to humanize his thoughts and feelings
But instead he should think
He could think
Something changed his very life that night
Something evil and unbroken lies ahead
For the werewolf comes alive at the moon's sight
And the man will no longer be what he seems.
The human often sits and daydreams of a new
And relives the night of the full moon
But instead he should scare
He could scare
Something is amiss in his life of dismal fame
Something has risen and he cannot stop it
For the werewolf catches it's own scent
And the demon's kiss is lasting and an end to a means.
The human wanders through the night
Desperately seeking solace and solitude
But instead he should find
He could find
Something he is not prepared for
Something he never imagine existed
For the werewolf hunts at the full moon
And will gladly deliver the demon's kiss.
The human looks despairingly on his thoughts
Desperately seeking the passion he once had
But instead he should find
He could find
Something he had not waited for
Something he was not ready for
For the werewolf bites are almost fatal
And it will find the human with its thirst.
The human walks through the darkest alleys
And thinks to himself unaware and unfounded
But instead he should pay attention
He could notice
Something is waiting for him in shadows
Something hungry and unknowingly evil
For the werewolf have many unwanted attributes
And it will hunt until the very dawn.
The human roams through the obscure streets
And talks to himself lonely and confused
But instead he should be alert
He should listen
Something is trailing him, stalking him
Something not quite human not beast
For the werewolf is somewhere in between
And it knows not what it does to the fawns.
The human comes alive and aware of his destiny
And creeps into a dark corner hoping and waiting
But instead he should be running
He could run
Something is behind him and breathing hard
Something has answered his call of loneliness
For the werewolf knows deep down inside
That it's the demon's kiss, which keep it sacred.
The human crouches in the shadows alert
And momentarily shortens his breaths
But instead he should beware
He could beware
Something is touching his shoulder
Something horrid and starved for affection
For the werewolf never thinks before killing
The beast pounces and the man finds himself naked.
The human starts the chase and runs from the scars
And he somehow manages to escape from it's evil
But instead he should be ready
He could be ready
Something has changed him from within
Something is not quite right in his head
For the werewolf has bitten him and he can see
That he is maimed and mauled, but alive.
The human wakes the very next day incoherent
And wonders why all the mischief roams in his mind
But instead he should find refuge
He could find refuge
Something has given him lifelong bad dreams
Something is just around the corner but he knows not
For the werewolf comes at the next full moon
And he will lose all sanity as he connives.
The human goes on with his mundane life
And struggles to humanize his thoughts and feelings
But instead he should think
He could think
Something changed his very life that night
Something evil and unbroken lies ahead
For the werewolf comes alive at the moon's sight
And the man will no longer be what he seems.
The human often sits and daydreams of a new
And relives the night of the full moon
But instead he should scare
He could scare
Something is amiss in his life of dismal fame
Something has risen and he cannot stop it
For the werewolf catches it's own scent
And the demon's kiss is lasting and an end to a means.
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