Photo by Martin Adams on Unsplash

Moons and Werewolves

And here we are, coming upon the Full Moon

“Another werewolf thing. Like most animals, we spent a large part of our lives engaged in the three Fs of basic survival. Feeding, fighting and… reproduction.”
― Kelley Armstrong
Or might we (I — because it’s my favorite word) say: fucking.

Feeding

We feed on the energy consuming us, granted to us from the heavenly skies above, as we feel the urges to eat and feast and grow and strive. We feed on our passions as we cultivate our dreams into realities. We feed. We feed. We feed. As if inhuman. As if like werewolves.

Fighting

We fight back the urges otherwise suppressed to be more, have more, want more, love more. We fight for ourselves and also, for others. We fight until our bleeding hearts are no more, as if ripped apart by werewolves themselves. Are we the werewolves, fighting ourselves until our clothes are ripped into oblivion, alongside our earthly thoughts and tendencies?

Fucking

We fuck until our bodies grow numb, filling ourselves with the void of having lost love and hoping to find it via the only means we deem necessary. We cater to that urge inside us as we partake in this act that is all too animalistic yet also so humanly powerful and passionate and, well…