there is a werewolf who stalks the woods

he is no more man

than he is wolf

when he is hungry

he feeds

digs his fangs 

and bares his teeth

it’s all the same 

 two sides — sedis owt 

 of a silver dagger

he bleeds and bruises 

his pupils

 indifferent to his form

fatten in the moonlight

he breathes and longs

for the taste of flesh

for the sucking of teeth

 and the click of his jaw

as he curls his tongue

 to suck the blood from his gums

and the smell of the river water

as he dips his nose into the stream 

a soothing balm

like the taste of nature’s bosom

and the vicious nectar of summer

that drips

and sticks 

like sweet pollen to the flower

he knows nothing of being man

and knows nothing of being wolf

he is consumed by the unknown

of just man

of just wolf

there is no just

only being

the werewolf is

 rejected 

the werewolf is

shunned

he is haunted by the very nature of his own being

there is a werewolf who stalks the woods 

and what am i to do about this werewolf?

there is a werewolf who stalks the woods 

and what is his crime? 

there is

 a werewolf

who stalks

the woods 

is existence his only sin?

there

is

a

werewolf

who 

stalks

the

woods

 your hatred grows teeth. it gnaws at the flesh of his shame.

 he is not man.

 he is not wolf. 

he is an abomination. 

then his breath is punishment enough.