"Even a Person that is pure of Heart
that says their prayers by night
can become a Wolf when the
Wolfbane blooms and the
moon is full and bright."
- a Ancient Gypsy Saying
that has been slightly Modified
The Joys of Being a Werewolf
Written By Lobo Di Noccento
Written On November 24th 2012
Your Dark Visceral Depression
Made Motivation For Suicidal Cuts
made by a Straight Razor this was
your Lavish Invocation.
I Inhale the Intoxicating Bouquet
of your blood;Like a Sea of Blood Roses
Splashing Forth Onto the Shores of a Cravass;
And the Perfume of that Sea is Endless and Vast.
I'm being drawn into
The Delight of Blood, Flesh and Bone
Which I find a Delightful Epicurial Feast;
Introductions shall be made and this
Maiden shall know my Beast!
My Flesh, Joints and Nerves Expand;
My Muscles and Organs Grow;
My Faceplate changes for now
the human without must fall away
and The Face of the Animal must Show!
My Bones Snap, Crackle and Pop!
My Pale Orbed Mistress Demands
this of me!;And until transformation
is complete I may not Stop!
My Jaws Ache with the
Firey Fury of Pain; It hits me
in All-Consuming Waves that refuse to Wane!
My Eyes are the Eyes of The Black Flame;
In The Primal Forrest Land I am The Hunter
and You are My Game!
I Answer to No-One I am in Charge!;
All My Teeth Get Mean and, Enlarge!
My Upper and Lower Canines
take on Sharpend points;
And Razor Edges!
My Nails become Claws;
Capable of making huge Nastily Torn
Streaks, Gouges and Shredded Wedges!
I Will Not and Cannot Surpress
My Overwhelming Thirst For
Rampantly Destructive Violence!
I Desire not the Sanctimoniousness of
Your Fluttering Butterfly Wings of Servitude
while Suffering in Silence!