lift head, open mouth, emit howl.

wolfen mutha-uckas know what's up.
fullness.
it's on like the call of the wild.
like white fang, duders.
like an american werewolf in (jack) london.
c'mon.
the woodsly stomping grounds are all astir
with the predatory predilections of the wolfen.
werewolves look cool.
wolfmen look cool.
so maybe it's not that, exactly,
but instead, the moon-pulled diversification of species-
a candid less-canid subset of lycanthropic misanthropy.
that ugly, busted buster business, b!tches.
y'know...
like some north-african-by-way-of-sicily,
mecky motherland mutha-ucking mean monster.
a half-hound-headed, spotted, and dotted underbiter.
yeah.
like a were-hyena.
complete with cackling cacophonous caterwauls.
that's that full-moon ugliness,
and sad, sauced-out, self-effacing sense of humor sh!t.
just sayin', neighbors.
i resemble that.
whatever the strain of lunatic-fringed orbital ebb and flow fury,
the berserker babarian battle beastliness is in full effect.
call it whatever y'all want,
but duders,
it's really happening.
knee-jerking, gut-checking, off-the-handle-flying,
hungry-like-the-wolf-type hard hard hard styles.
if you weren't busy being too cool to know about it,
you'd be aware that hyena-men are known to D&Ders
as gnolls.
yuuuup.
gnolls.
that's a thing.
***********
it's friday.
and we're booked solid.
slammed with tattbombing sappage.
no joke.
it's also a full moon,
as i alluded to in elusive language a moment ago.
you feel those nutrients getting tugged on, kids?
i do.
in fact, i doo-doo that cyclical shedding sh!t.
a big circle,
glowing,
and as of tomorrow,
dwindling down to a sliver,
and then a black blank,
and in between,
the push and pull of all that polarized power
competes for high and low tidal tidings,
but never ever not moving.
there's no time for standstills,
at least, not in nature, my ninjas.
and everybody knows that nature always wins;
never quiet, never soft.....