It’s a Bitch of a Moon Tonight, eh?

Oh waxing moon, your leash upon my neck,

The choking collar tows my scraping flesh

‘cross rocks, as poisoned lungs cannot bedeck

The canvas; grace exempt of all but thresh.

 

Transfiguration to diseases swill,

Marionette with stringed will imposed:

An ocean! Run and dive to death distill,

And, fire–next to tendrils blue repose.

 

At twilight’s death, my soul who will control?

Not I, outvoted, kicked from session’s meet.

A mutiny at sea does not console,

For men, still lost,  cannot reclaim the beat.

 

But ointment buried on an island close–

Lycanthropy resisted with a single dose.

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4 thoughts on “It’s a Bitch of a Moon Tonight, eh?

  1. A crescent smile beams through gloomy night
    Incandescent willy wily shadow cast upon the height
    What shalt though now be consolation prize to gain
    When weather breaks down refrains casting off the rain

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