[ WP ] Were-humans ...


 It throbs. The head it throbs. The eyes they blink. They blink. The tree it stays - in my mind it stays. My. Me. I. It. Again. 
 
 Up I look and the moon it throbs too, rounder than I remember but I don ’ t remember. I only know its again. I sleep longer than I dream - I know. Every sleep like a month. My coat more speckled than the last time, with the grays amidst the black like my memories in the great night. Up I look. The moon. One night only. The book. I must get back to the book. 
 
 My shaggy head I shake and I kick the straw with an instinct, only to cough knowing i control it too. Finally person. It all finally personal again. I on all fours in the present tense mapping my way until the path with the piled high logs soon. A cabin. I think its a cabin in my mind its a cabin. 
 
 The hermit screams when I arrive. But I find the leather book called Matthew Shelter. And lick the pages next to next. They stick together and I miss a page. But I ’ m hungry. 
 
 And I know that the dust and molecules I was without thoughts will be back soon. So I must find heaven first. Or else be locked again in hell.
