The story ends how the story begins:
A black dog sniffing and *******,
Marking its territory, threatening
From onyx eyes to stone scraping claws.
It follows me…
Moves itself in like a bad relative,
Intent on bringing turmoil;
On bringing torment.
A fast transformation
From noble to brutal,
From canine king to feral beast
In one snap of it’s jaw…
Chewing my gut like it would old furniture,
******* my mind like it would a *****,
Digging and scraping and scuffing
My inner core,
Leaving me full of holes,
Collapsing my barriers,
Dragging down inner walls
Until I become translucent
And the anxiety never eases.
The light turned out,
The animal becomes invisible in the darkness
But testing me still with tapping paws
As I lie fetus-like in the womb of sodden sheets.
A day may pass…
A week…
A month…
The dog is bored, nothing left to destroy
Only meatless bones,
The marrow ****** from within
It turns full circle and again marks its ground.
It walks, breaking to a trot
Then a canter to a gallop,
The stench of **** a loose diary entry
For a random return.

Copyright Marc Hawkins