Chicken, do you sometimes look up and get jealous? Lone wolf are you afraid of the crowd? Or really comfortable with yourself? Black sheep are you fine with being different? Or do you wish you were colour-blind, at times?
Make no mistake; My mother wanted to raise a wolf. And just as the bone-white moon rises, into the possessive arms of night; I was pulled from between her legs, and into her screaming embrace. First thing she taught me was to bare my teeth; I rose to womanhood howling.
We are cyclic beings Living under our cyclic mother We howl to her and she turns red Our cheeks and finger tips blush Like a cherry Like blood Like a fire with a heart We become her We bleed, we ovulate, we phase In an infinity loop (Mirror images, round, fertile energies) Becoming and unbecoming