- Jan 31, 2011
- 5,769
- 8,194
- 55
For 4 days I have howled at the moon, I have gorged on whatever I have wanted, in the darkness of my mind I have been whoever I wish to be, I have relived great wolf days, I have hardly spoken a word to anyone, I go to bed late, and rise early, to prolong this state is to risk losing everything, I have no compassion, no empathy, only a desire to burrow deeper and deeper in the self, to find the wolf, to be the wolf, with all the subsequent misery and suffering, I tick the days as they pass, and they pass all too quickly, today I am tired, weary, I have had very little sleep, what used to be fantasy when I was younger became reality when I was young, and now is the past.
Everytime I don the fur, the teeth, the red eyes of a wolf, it is unfamiliar, it is strange, almost repulsive, the first day, I miss my wife, my puppies, my family, but it draws you in, the skin becomes second nature, the rotting smell of corpses, of stale blood, the complete lack of fear, its slow suicide, death is inevitable, fear no death, and give yourself to the world, or, be a wolf, and treat each day as a lucid dream, with no consequences, what a waste.....
I recall driving back from London, it was the mid nineties, I was making a fortune in property, but I was spending a fortune on anything that could be bought, people, cars, women, drink, drugs, anything, leaving the Sportsman casino in Tottenham Court Road, I was several thousand up, the drive home, at 5am, the rain was pouring hard as I steered my XJ6 eastwards, along the A13 with its strange angled flyovers, as I roared up the last one, with every window wide open, and relax by Frankie goes to Hollwood on full blast, the car took off, suspended in mid air, time stopped, I was on top of a very wet flyover, the speedo was showing 70, I have a vivid memory of the complete lack of fear, or even caring, and floored it, both the rev counter and speedo shot up, until what seemed like an eternity, the tyres met the road again, and snaked back down the flyover, I remember screaming in pure exhiliration, in ecstacy.
Today, now, this morning, I can look back and see the fool I was, the {censored} I used to be, I can think of nothing worse, and truth be known, I am so looking forward to going home early tonight, seeing my dogs, my wife, I will have a long bath, scrub myself clean, be myself again,
Everytime I don the fur, the teeth, the red eyes of a wolf, it is unfamiliar, it is strange, almost repulsive, the first day, I miss my wife, my puppies, my family, but it draws you in, the skin becomes second nature, the rotting smell of corpses, of stale blood, the complete lack of fear, its slow suicide, death is inevitable, fear no death, and give yourself to the world, or, be a wolf, and treat each day as a lucid dream, with no consequences, what a waste.....
I recall driving back from London, it was the mid nineties, I was making a fortune in property, but I was spending a fortune on anything that could be bought, people, cars, women, drink, drugs, anything, leaving the Sportsman casino in Tottenham Court Road, I was several thousand up, the drive home, at 5am, the rain was pouring hard as I steered my XJ6 eastwards, along the A13 with its strange angled flyovers, as I roared up the last one, with every window wide open, and relax by Frankie goes to Hollwood on full blast, the car took off, suspended in mid air, time stopped, I was on top of a very wet flyover, the speedo was showing 70, I have a vivid memory of the complete lack of fear, or even caring, and floored it, both the rev counter and speedo shot up, until what seemed like an eternity, the tyres met the road again, and snaked back down the flyover, I remember screaming in pure exhiliration, in ecstacy.
Today, now, this morning, I can look back and see the fool I was, the {censored} I used to be, I can think of nothing worse, and truth be known, I am so looking forward to going home early tonight, seeing my dogs, my wife, I will have a long bath, scrub myself clean, be myself again,
