The Curse of the Broken Telephone

The moon doesn’t worry about sunburns

or the murders by werewolves under its mane

what the hell is the heat of the sun to the moon

waiting out the day

in the wings of the afternoon

waiting for its cue

of sunset

to let the earth know it never let it go

there were just factors beyond its control

like tides and times and sunshine that blinds


and turns us werewolves

back to mortals

spitting out blood and chicken feathers

wondering what the hell we did to our pillows in our nightmares.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s