Howling moonlight

when wolfs hunt they hunt in packs 

because they fear loneliness 

the quieting draft

that lingers into the soul 

and reaches into the emptiness of the darkest parts 

of their mind 

thoughts thick like tar 

thoughts sickening sweet 

like cough syrup 

drab and plain like the frost that freezes over there murky lake of thoughts 

jagged and cut diagonally angled to the wolves deepest fear 

loneliness 

that pierces the wolves bone 

that enters so quietly into their ribs like a ghost 

that rummages through their bodies like a demon 

bones chilling 

and cracking 

at the whistling fog in the air 

that hangs around in the night 

that sends arthritic  pain in the joints every time 

the draft of loneliness whistles through the trees

that sends a bone-chilling fever that causes 

the wolf to widen his jaws 

and howl´s to the moonlight 

to escape the loneliness he feels in hopes 

that someone would answer his calls

that he is not alone in this daunting forest 

where the trees cave in 

where the marks on the tree are cracked and crease

and whistle the eery tune of loneliness 

where the flowers are only dark and gray 

where the bones are wrapped around the trees like Christmas lights.

where the devil hides out in the open and enters the bodies of fools who dare to stray away from the pack 

the hound howled because he was answering to the wolf´s call to loneliness 

because he was lonely at his master's house for he was never home