Hip Service
By Julian Malek

The zeal of cobblestone tolerance arrayed in fashionable hues masquerading as crimson secrecy, elevates the tide of man but some boats leak in their foundations. Therefore a cork to every exuberance and a triumphant torch for every sorrow lives onward in collective time. Larks that abound because prescience and PUGET sound, that brown has become the new orange which in turn prowls as a concealed swarthy black. To antagonize the willful and frenetic pace, a prodrome of lasting but memorialized disgrace. Should I move to a state by first or last name, or is the final appellation worthy of much more lasting fame. I scurry down the aisles, bemused by shimmering tiles and the beguiled audiences who see much in my limitation but doubt little about my debited elation. Ringmaster Barnum, how much horticulture is needed for assured superstardom, how many cloisters must we evacuate from the incendiary plumes of a metaphorical Harlem..  But know that no virtual reality can supplant the reality that does truly exist, or at least our time is too infernal and purblind to resist. Carrey the tops of mountains in the humor of wellsprings and fountains, we engage a menagerie of egos lilting of an etiolated pragmatic concern. Evicted from paradise, littered with say-cheese demise ensnaring three blind mice eaten alive by snake-eyed vice. To feel good without incorporated tyranny, we must see blue and red as alternatives to the same destiny. A world that reckons with the futilitarianism of pacified malcontent and astroturf monikers that lead the impressionable into a slaughter shed. Established or not, any enchantment under the sea must include fishes once a pastiche of me, but to them I avoid their courtesy flush and never even faintly blush as my egalitarian statements are lavish thrush.

Five TO Won baby one in 99, everyone here aboard the titanic stays alive, you got your boat baby and I got mine, gonna make it with babies numbered in surreal primes. Halt the slots game the nines, a stitch in time is going to turn out to be Mine. Flanger goals, girded piles, liminal like an aborted Harry Styles, we climb mountains we issue tithes, and the turmoil is etched into 45-notched bludgeons and two-tucked knives. Excuse you, where have you been all day, have you been sauntering in a gentle rain or a genteel pain, have you wallowed beyond the mires of doubt and ranked above David Blaine. I hope you tell me of your magic tricks, rather than your other flicks endeared I stand to fight an ineradicable itch. But if not, you placid pond dented by so many rocks and so many ripples give your heart over to me, before I clinch the special Olympics *******, we ran, we span the homespun garments of your left and right hand, but death is a specter that ghoulishly carouses along the carousel terminal disease we call life. I beseech your deepest affection and want to console you for your deepest struggle, to be there every time wed with time rather than a throttled scuttle. Moons make you guarded but maroons leave me desiccated, don’t ever let that wilted flower die, always water it with a rich but gentle ties and widened deck for all to at once marvel and pry.  Monsters of Mars Attacks once flanked my bed, as though the **** brain scared every gooseflesh and restrained every frisson of mystery. I lampoon myself for those cold Dark Knights and the protection ended by the plight of the poor mattering nothing to the deliberately internecine rich. I struck gold in a valley somewhere, an oxymoron of paradox that now you have the privilege to dock, to stay aboard to be a vessel of peace less widely deplored. Even if we don’t sprout wings, we garner the exactitude of measured things and our glass elevator though easily shattered by the glower of enslavement is actually our vista to heaven or listening to brethren tingles for rich mans trinkets and other things. For humanity deserves a legend and a princess, a regimented desuetude and a flanged lust but in our mistakes wildly flouted in momentary moments we become purified by the temptations of an alabaster palace.

***** the left-field wisdom of a pragmatic paragon ellipsis in prison, slip between the cracks and let my suburban muse become your urban ruse. To enchant a caged world beyond a reality delicately and deliberately unfurled. Squirming toads on highways enchanted but dead, are graves for the blue becoming purple in every dignified red. Gainsay assaults me with platitude, a repeated hitter quit on the first bunted ball into foul-line territory. Those gripes are swiped right in all circumstance no matter the plight. The pronged hearing of a trident sensitive to ambient collection, and suddenly we are all in the mad house even though the house of profaned pain is much worse. Glimpses of gambits that gambol for nickels in transit as occult grenades and known dice waddle through without artifice or device, and the laughter and slaughter that trains collegiate minds, differs no more than the tropes of a glamorous violence articled in sordid rhymes. This surfing movie means so much more than Surf Wax America pristine in limited but sacrilege nirvana. Teen spirits smell muskier than 90s pop dreams, the grasp and grunge of gouged eyes becomes a mummified staid, a scarecrow to those who disobey. Childhood flashes with blinding light, and new sight illuminates darkening blight, A blight eradicated only by two magazines and including one that houses the bullets that ***** themselves between death and comatose dreams both within astral sight. Littoral harbor on a seaside town, a shanty with a brackish gown that glides the gourmand to the cosmopolitan eatery on the outskirts of lost & found. But forever lost in embonpoint and forever gained in chavish that exonerates the gaunt, the etiolated prince in heart becomes irrefutable marrow in minded souls.

If I am a spy you are an ESPY, and if I cry than you are a baby,but since neither are the case my wiseacres will cultivate lava lamp dreams for a new generation and suddenly Boston bets on Harvard, but who knows of this piped blather squirming for relevance rather than voguish but temporary chatter. My regatta knows how to swim, my life now knows how to cringe and yet still win and in stilted plays of bungled sincerity the God of peace reminds us of our transcendent personalities. That we in sincerity top the barnacles of invention a novelty but a rarity. But the guillotine quill of emboldened unscripted parvenus ruthless in their eager dues, outdate and outlive the sued swayed blues that indemnify Clinton and make the atomic dog an amazing Winston hill a church often in sheltered disuse. Imps and urchins sting the sentiment, cloy the alimony of repentant betterment, but neither touches the gilded skies of pleonasm striving for raspy disguise as to dissuade further diatribe investigation. Lurking in those scared days of youth, the gore of unalloyed horror scourged me with a limp, that compassion itself could ever become a gimp. Now years later athletics better and scoring goals making the mildew sweat and the years wetter, not a global warming that can be alarmed by global mourning. Take peace at heart if distanced spears of separation make Idiocracy as a pastiche look exceedingly smart. And spar only with the true antagonists bridging malevolence with expedience. Killjoys sure, will joy even more sure, but still boys fluttered heart stopping dead at a stop-watched alarm the worst tragedy of our sordid sort. Give an African Child a real home rather than a spatial roam, a palatial desiccation of momentary Jonas Brothers snapping back at captives with sexualized foam.

Narrative blinds shuttered in an Island among mountains hardly ever wiser to sanitize the sanitarium among the wasps of stung power. Police crumple their uniforms as they prowl down the avenues, looking for misfits and widened platitudes. Somehow that the vigilance of those corrupted by their very career choice, look even worse when megalomania of private is the limelight of public, to their defense few turrets I can muster but castles in the sky will be the apartheid judge. Those that cling to virtue to eradicate Porsche-driven faked or real deaths at the most breakneck speed, that Fast & Furious operation if disclosed completely would turn the Shire of the ring into the hatred curtailed by a song in Sing-Sing. Immunity must not Yoda implore, that livery Liverpool marooned on islands can also to deplore the R.E.D. and still whet the sharpened stead and the fly-by-night Manchester United alights like militant peer pressure for wranglers in tights. But beating the Beatles at a game of Walruses and egg-shelled eyeful towers likely impedes rinkside hockey from anything over bellicose ballyhoo…it exists as a transient fixated glower. But who knows about soccer speculation when love is the transcendent temptation, when nest-egg hens rather than neglecting rig Bens of clockwork and clocked words designed arise better for their token ken. Do I must repeat the subtext of submarines, yellowed as though ugly unused as though unseen, as though the quixotic earthquakes of tintinnabulations Avatar dreams. Wafted souls console the disheartened thoughts of a dashed dream that Berlin hates more than a Furor’s unbridled and useless scream.
Demotic clips slinging from the bedridden silence of a token moon and its token friends, swimming in a shore of ambiguity whether history mellows or whether its furor melts away momentary doubts. I want to avoid the sting rays exorcised by due providence and become the amalgamated talents gentry and of course the upstart swagger of Jack Dawson. But with the psy-op going on, the people manipulated on all sides of a gray picket fence will the relationship bloom without muttered dissent or pretended smiles. Will we take upon the shuffled shuttle and dig with shovels deep-rooted Christmas trees and toast our lives to Dos Equis. We may never go out of style, but the treacle of illuminated imagery when divorced from sentiment bristle shows a swagger that prioritizes rather than amalgamates all love. I love being brash and brazen and honest because when she finally ditches the grandstand of delayed frenemies fandoms of other tinsel decorations without any substance beyond meretricious thrill. You want a roller coaster on some days, but most often you want the nutcracker to elope to secret hiding places. Swim with adventure not just in love, not just in affection with the starlight now matter how luminous, sixpence all the richer is no centuries any poorer and we could be that gilded couple of star and screen and if we ever have to scream, let our screams unite us in passion, rather than a milquetoast deference to pedestaled beauty. but of course the end times don’t laugh at your crumpled wizened relapse. Not out of convenience wed by a discriminating genetic harvest moon but a deeper engagement that flatters when stylish and bristles when romantic but never defiled, never riled of specious pretense. Promise me that you will always remember me in my flaws and my faults, in my scause factory destructions and the penults of PEN-ULTIMATE wisdom that comes before the grace of God in the annihilation of passion for eroded omission. If your goal is to be remembered, check that out…but the most admirable goal is as the propinquities of souls dusted in the wind returning to a spring equinox of passion and if you find in yourselves reservations do not depart from sacred land, and never jilt me because of a boisterous and menacing friend. You are everything to me right now, and I Hope this persists despite the vicissitudes of star-favored afflictions mixed with utter benediction without the pontification of stilted Benedictines  or rather the hyped ludic effrontery of termagants being made of younger and younger women. Leave it at this ,32 leaves the royal secret in royal hands and the Knights Templar and us we altogether hold hands, if only a prelude for a masquerade ball. But the stilted embarrassment of crestfallen time, let that be relegated and emphatically lets embrace what is like to not ever need a real white horse to get back into your favor, because we never go out of style we can brandish the best elements and reject the sentiments of the too newfangled and the too stodgy. We in our crenellated pleonasm can eager ride the lightning to another tomorrow and another yesterday and if even not that, we virtually make an indelible impression of embroidered love not too distant in ivory towers and not to vulgary( catering to popular sentiments) to become a trash glam movement. We soar, others deplore but let their purblind doubts render them blind to our burgeoning love.

Forget the brisk trees dangled in the wind on winding paths through haunted forest or remember them because of ghoulish fortress but with our apotropaic lamp we can avert most evil and call the rest fun and gains and shun but fames never profaned, never inalterable a destiny to magical to be some whimpered catcall. Or we could linger beneath lambent street lights disguised as though wilted garb, attrition of circumstance waiting patiently for the matinee and the vintner to escort us beyond the garb of pretense in a city so abundant with it that it deserves castigation. But I digress, a beachside cliff overlooking tepid waters tumultuous in their power but august in their noises, the cadence of love will sing a half-moon bay on full-moon nights and we will frisk each other like grasping at straws of permanent tracks trammeled of the elite and a sidetracked basque bet. Trim those antlers and instead grow metaphorical wings, to us we all sing but few can match your elegance and everyone would be crazy not to see your ennobled age and together thrilling songs to emulate thriller in sales we will collaboratively sing.
Haughty sneers from lifeless lycanthropy straggling furtively along the pastiched sidewalks of grime, livid because they can’t share the lingering limelight, with as many guarded perks of privacy clambering like a hive of snarky sharks. Lets ditch the big town dreams in terms of posh and stature if only for a caressed moment beneath the unadulterated stars and if you find spars **** to the extent they are amiable than I say guess what my name is Lars! Or wait a second, paused in the big city spotlight our stenciled hearts will guide whatever progeny is yours or mine or ours together we will sing the most comforting lullaby, and caves no longer must we abide. Yearn and earn every inch, as I gripe with my delicate saddened pinch but I think the innuendo speaks . Ripen with our trips to Napa, long afternoon sunsets swim in our hearts as we taste the vanguard’s toast on elegant wine.I console with entreaty to disavow the omen of that San Franciscan church October 2008, the doom implied by Einstein, the raillery of a world grinding down the endless decadence of a railed future inalterable in destiny or partialy amenable to widespread coquetry.

Forget those rumbles in your past that made you feel partial to insecurity and learning the ropes you transcended all and live in all eternity. Thimble and brook, tolerant of all those tokes I took your rebellious side flattens the yeast of Exodus raspy in its begrudged clapping. But the Pharaoh of the modern world sheltered me under his prickly thorns, shielded me from the sickly things that life adorns. We have the numbers on our side, the weight of destiny on our shoulders, dedicate yourself to yourself and I will preen the most vibrant wisdom and love will leap like Apollo across all borders not for camel-****** hoarders. We are culminated destiny in the wings of the best daydream

If given some lycanthropy
perhaps I might choose
to chase horses
and Victorians beneath the moon.
Perhaps it would not seem so strange,
the monthly change
and tide of blood.
Perhaps as a were I might
learn something of grace.
The night is big
and so are shadows.
In the brief time
between teeth and skin
might I find some other
kin or love than life?

When I was eight I found an arrowhead
in a creek bed, chipped
from black obsidian,
perfect and out of place
amongst the granite sand.
I held it in my hand
and knew what death was.
Death is like obsidian,
cold and sharp and
liable to shatter.
She was like obsidian,
smooth and grey
and eyes like chipped edges.
I have since lost the arrowhead.
But if I hadn’t,
I would throw it back.

The rain is leaking onto my windowsill
leaving a stain. Until
my hair grows out, it will rain
and rain and rain and rain.
Then the mice can sail
in tiny ships, round and round,
and discover new continents.

cons:
do you know how often i have to shave?
**** man i just want clean armpits
and then i turn into a giant dog every month and that hair grows back really ******* fast
i need to invest in one of those lint rollers for shedded animal fur because it is becoming a problem
also i'm pretty sure i chewed another pair of shoes up the other night i need to find a safer spot to put my shoes
shoes are ******* expensive to be constantly replacing i can't ******* do this
not to mention the need for meat okay meat is expensive unless you buy tons of cheap stuff and there is no way i'm eating something that tastes like a greasy foot
(looking at you, cheap sausage patties)
pros:
i've got self-defense pretty much covered now
i'm prepared to **** people up if i need to
and i'm pretty warm like all the time now so i don't have to spend as much on heating
(though at the same time there's the air conditioning in the summer,,,)
also i get to tell all my friends I'm a gay werewolf so i'm basically the coolest

We are all made out of star dust. I am made out of the moon. I was once part of the majestic orb that lights up the night. The majestic orb that lures lovers, and guides the tides.
    
     The moon looks down on me nightly, to check on my well being, even on nights that I cannot see her.

    Luna Lovegood is my Harry Potter twin.
   The blood moon bleeds for me.
The harvest moons gathers for and from me.
The blue moon is blue because we have been separated.
The lunar eclipse is my moon doing tricks to make me smile.
The Hunter's Moon hunts for and finds me.
Lycanthropy is my secret code name.


     The moon is my secret astrological friend that I get to see every night, sometimes in the sky, sometimes in my dreams. Sometimes both.
   This may seem impossible to you, but I believe it!


© Misty Bishop-Martiss

i’m not afraid of blood and guts
but am of the notion of separation
perspicacity’s domain is under my shoe
where adoration once lived
but it was late on the rent.

the doubts recede back into the ontology they sprang from
a paradox not unlike verbiage and emotion
tied together with razor wire and feathers.

i’m playing a hand of poker
where the cards are made of shame, disgust and jealousy.
the king’s looking at the queen with disdain
and furrowed eyebrows
he plans on uxoricide in her sleep.
it’s her fault for not saying “good night"
when i drew a pair of aces.
the jack and the joker are plotting raiding the medicine cabinet tonight.

but chemicals have failed us.
everything has.

we only find solace in the prayers of children
and the rain.

comforts that we once cherished
now have sharp teeth
and will lacerate you
before the sun sets.

a sick kind of lycanthropy
turns ex-lovers’ blood
into gasoline.
but we still sat on the porch and drank it
as solar flares bounced off our hips
and turned altruists into hypocrites
sweet, honest mistresses into liars
and vegetarians into fire eaters.

not much of a difference, you say?
well, the jacks have turned on one another.
it’s a battle of epic proportions
and the queen woke up just in time to slay the king.

the kingdom is in chaos.
while we weren’t looking
the peddlers turned into cannibals
and the priests now feast on peace
and tranquility.

a young, beautiful maiden
asked me to dance in the street
but i said it was too loud.

our imaginary children have been forsaken
by forgotten gods
and the beautiful music we were going to dance to
is just static.

was it always this way?
maybe we were just blinded by wanton hopes and long abandoned desires.

or maybe the king really killed the queen.

it’s darker now
and the sheep have turned in.
so have the cats and dogs and birds and plants.

but i’m still playing poker
and the static fills my head
bereft of any plans of retreat.

pride is not without a mighty downfall
nor is confidence without cracks in the tinted glass.

we all fall down.
some just more than others.

but you can only dig your hole 6 feet until the dirt comes back on top
and sometimes you can never clean it from under your nails.
and it is sentient.
it patiently collects there for days, months, even years
until it decides to strike
enveloping and suffocating
in a whirlwind of pent up rage and violence.

the children are gone
the laughter is gone
and the joy too.
the birds are without song
and the trees are without leaves
and love does not stay.

she has given up the fight.

i walk to the window.
it’s pitch black
because there is no moon.
it has deserted me along with all my
friends, lovers, acquaintances and guardian angel.
i think they’re all at a bar
making jokes and laughing at my expense.

it’s absolute zero outside.
i’m insulated by bitterness, sarcasm and apathy.
the girls stay warm
in facades
of trust, loyalty and love.

i sit back down
to play another hand
but something happens.

the kings, queens and jacks
are whispering and conspiring
shifty eyes, toothy grins
and all.

as i flip through them,
they begin making small paper cuts on my fingertips.
it doesn’t bother me
at first
but before i know it
they are moving up my arms.
not pain, just stinging.

then i’m in a state of complete paralysis.
i can’t brush them off or run outside.
i’m laying on my back
on the floor.
every time i muster a laugh
they go deeper.

they’re at my shoulders now
working their way down
at a 45 degree angle.

i know where they’re headed.

i forgot my heart is by my knees
but they can smell it

they keep working down my body
and each cut hurts more.
by the time they get to my thighs
it’s excruciating.

i mentally scream
for a God
who isn’t there
but i have a plan.

two more seconds
and i will will my heart
to stop beating
my lungs to stop pumping.

i begin to fade out
and my last vision
is one of them
maniacally frenzied
and beating at each other
in the air.

then

just blackness.

the abyss is looking back at me
and it doesn’t like what it sees.

i have saved my perfect mistake for last.

Chapter 1
It was cold. Freezing. The first day of the winter chill had started in northern Washington. The sun now hid behind the thick ceiling of clouds as they began their annual snowdrop and the mountains began to howl as the winter winds bared their fangs. Near the mountains was a town with a population of one hundred thousand. The town was officially established in 1840, though a now extinct native tribe settled there long before. Life here was normal for most.
A jog and a stone's throw away was a semi-secluded high school that lay deep in the woods, holding some fifteen hundred students. The gray bricks were reminiscent of a prison, juxtaposed against the walls of towering trees all around it. As snow began to blanket the ground, a single pair of footprints led to the school.

Professor Thompson, a younger teacher, was yelling again, "If I see another one of you punks rolling in here halfway through class, I swear I'm going to make sure you end up living in detention!" Alexei grinned, whispering the exact same phrase in unison with the teacher. The younger members of his "pack" snickered behind him. His group of eight was split between boys and girls appearing between seventeen and twenty. They were a small part of the senior class and had the reputation of being stubborn, loyal, and dangerous at times.

They embraced the reputaion, knowing how true it was. They were Lycans. Shapeshifters. Werewolves. They all meant the same thing. They were descendants of the "extinct" tribe that once lived in the area, though their numbers now were far greater and much more widespread.
When each Lycan turned fifteen, they would have their first shift. They would turn into Dire Wolves, about twice as large as a normal gray wolf.  During their first transformation, instinct would guide them to an alpha who would help them transition to the new life, teaching them how to shift at will and how to survive. Each pack was structured by rank, Alpha, Beta, and Delta.
There were only two Alpha's per pack, one male, one female. They made decisions and guided the newly transformed Lycans. Once a Lycan proved themaelves, they were given the rank of Delta. Their duty was to learn and follow any order to the best of their ability. A Delta could be chosen to become a Beta, either by trial or by challenge.

In this case, Alexei was the alpha and this was his territory.
Alexei stood at exactly six feet tall, was light skinned and was built like an animal, lean and muscular. His straight hair was jet black and ended in a flurry of blood red tips that lay hidden under a heavy black jacket and a hood lined with white fur. His yellow eyes glowed faintly under his hood.

Alexei turned his head slightly to the left, where Hunter sat, or rather slept. Alexei heard his pack mate wake up in a daze and groan, "What? I'm still in class? Man this *****."
Alexei grinned, flashing his long canines and the rest of the Pack laughed quietly amongst themselves. "Alexei... would you mind keeping your cronies under control, please?" His eyes locked onto the professor, their golden glow piercing the darkness of the hood like slivers of fire. The pack immediately went silent.
"Why of course, professor. We wouldn't want to disturb the lecture now would we?" His powerful voice dripped with acidic sarcasm, laced with a deadly seriousness. "Right guys?" The question hung dead in the air for a few heartbeats.
When no response came, he turned his head sharply, his gaze cutting into each of his bretheren. A collection of nervous, 'yes sir, yes alpha' rang out quietly. He closed his eyes and said, "All yours, professor."
Alexei drew a breath and let his consciousness flow towards the group. He felt each of their minds twitch in surprise as he spoke directly to them.
Just bear with it guys, its the last class of the day.
He heard another person's voice flutter into the pool of thoughts. but, alpha, it was Leiks, one of the betas.its snowing... we want to go out.
He growled slightly, just low enough for the Lycans to hear  And you think I don't? You know how this works, Leiks. We have to abide by the Sapiens rules.
Alexei heard her whimper slightly in submission, backing out of his thoughts. Leiks fidgeted in her seat on the back row, looking out the freezing window at the puffy white flakes cascading down around the school. Her blonde hair ended in vibrant purple curls that bounced around her chest. She was the youngest Beta at eighteen years old. Leiks was one of the three betas in Alexei's pack. The longest serving Beta was a male named Chance. He was Alexei's right hand, commanding all of the strength and loyalty as his Alpha. He had the figure of a sprinter, and was the fastest Lycan other than Alexei. His eyes were a very rare violet, further accenting his undercut blonde hair.
The other Beta was a red haired female named Krista. She was one of the oldest of the pack, at nineteen years old. She acted as the peacekeeper of the pack, settling the disputes when Alexei was away on business.

The other four were all deltas, each of them still looking to prove themselves.
Alexei caught a hint of something in the air; it smelled like a sweet musk mixed with crisp apples. The smell sent an icy tingle up and down his spine for an eternity before settling at the base of his neck, making his hair stand on end. He growled softly in his throat, grinning.
Smell something, alpha?, it was Leiks.
Yeah... maybe...
He grinned and felt warm all over. He felt the urge to go wild, to wolf out. Alexei bit his tongue in an effort to calm his instincts. He cleared his mind and closed his eyes, taking one long breath after another before the waves of longing subsided.
Professor Thompson continued with his lecture on mythology, talking about the classic horror creatures like vampires and werewolves. He focused awfully ******* the latter, going on and on about lycanthropy. The professor then began to compare the natures of both species, concluding with a comment on their painful existence.

Alexei bared his fangs in a silent growl, gripping the edge of his desk hard enough to make it creak in dismay. 
He thought to himself, we shouldn't be giving the Sapiens our whole history, even if they don't pay attention, much less believe in us.
Alexei's mind wandered as he pored over the history of his people. He stared down at his hands and he began to think about all of the Lycans that had been part of his pack.
An image flashed before his eyes of a bloodied white wolf lying before him, whimpering helplessly as its crimson blood steamed against the snow. The cries of pain echoed as clear as crystal in his mind. Alexei's own blood boiled as the memory took over his thoughts. He could see blood on his hands, staining the desk. He could see the life leaving the white wolf's blue eyes. He heard the all to familiar laugh echo in the forest. Alexei's heart beat filled his ears, deafening him. He felt nothing but rage as he searched for the killer's face.

His anger lasted only a second before a hand tenderly gripped his shoulder. His eyes flashed open and he bared his fangs slightly. He snapped his gaze over his shoulder at the pack, their eyes wide and locked on him, emanating dread. The hand belonged to Flora, the youngest member of the pack at sixteen. Her eyes were full of innocent fear as she looked at her enraged Alpha. Alexei realized he had partially transformed, his teeth had all turned to sharp incisors, ready to rend flesh from bone. He forced his body to revert back, feeling the fangs retreat. Alexei nodded and Flora let go of his shoulder. Alexei turned and shut his eyes again, his good mood soured for now. He took a deep breath and sighed, wishing for that scent again. Five more minutes...
Those five minutes drug on like a glacier, the professor's words trailing off into the distance as he switched topics. Can he go any slower?
Don't jinx us, alpha, sir. came Flora's response.
You don't have to call me sir, Flora. We're a family.
The wolves stayed silent for the rest of the class, listening halfheartedly to the professor. "As you all know, this is the last day of school until January. I hope you all have some plans, some family to go see." 
He paused for a moment as if to say something else. The professor was looking directly at Alexei, who could feel the teacher's eyes boring into his soul. The bell finally rang, and Alexei was the first one out of his seat, ready to bolt for the door, but a stern voice called his name.
"One moment, Alex. I need to have a word with you." The professor looked directly at Alexei with an iron stare. They stood there for a moment as the others left the room, chattering amongst themselves. All but one. Flora remained defiantly beside Alexei, looking up at him. He looked down at her, his eyes opening with a soft yellow glow.
"Go on, I'll be fine." Flora looked at him quizzically but obeyed.
Alexei waited for the door to close, looking at the professor only after the latch had clicked into place. Alexei smirked and said, "What's up, doc?"
Professor Thompson raked his hand through his hair and removed his glasses. Laying them gently on the table. "I really wish you'd stop doing that. It's unbecoming of a wolf of your stature."
Alexei looked at him and shrugged. "You have to keep up with the times, Tom."
The professor laughed, "What times? The forties?" He walked around the desk and leaned against its front. He sighed and his tone changed, "We may have a problem on our hands, Alex. It's a vampire attack."
Alexei scowled. "I thought you had tabs on all the vampires in the area. As the resident Vampire Lord, it's your job to control them." The professor looked impatiently at the Lycan, waiting for him to finish. "Besides I thought you had them all drinking blood from the hospital?"
Thompson clenched a fist against the table and said through gritted teeth, "My people... Didn't attack anyone. They were attacked. By a Lycan."
Alexei sat on the edge of one of the desks and was silent for a moment. Then, "Please tell me it was just an unhappy accident?"
Thompson sighed and shook his head, "Lycan blood was found at the scene. A trail led to the outskirts of town where we found the unidentifiable body of a half transformed Lycan. Female. We cleaned it up as best we could but you have to understand, my people are going to find out one way or another." He looked intently at Alex, "I'm not accusing you or your pack of anything. But we're going to have a serious situation on our hands soon once the High Courts hear of it."
Alexei sighed and pondered the facts. He tapped a finger against the table repeatedly as he thought. "We had reports of a lone wolf wandering around the countryside. Nothing unusual, other than nobody had seem this particular wolf in nearly ten years. Then all of a sudden she vanished. We tacked it up to misinformation." Alexei tilted his head back. "Last we knew she was outside of my territory, closer to Steelhead's." He paused, "This makes the first death since the interspecies pacts."
The professor nodded, "And that's why we both have to be on our best behavior. All of the Underworld will be watching us now."
Alexei nodded and stood up. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll be in touch." He touched ******* to his lips in farewell and the professor did the same.


As Alexei opened the door, he saw the pack waiting in the hallway just out of earshot. He approached them and they swarmed around him, each of them with a question on their lips. Alexei silenced them with a short gesture and they continued on their way outside. The pack wound through hallways and double doors until they felt the tingle of cold touch their skin. They trailed along behind their leader and burst out the doors, welcoming the frigid air and the soft snowfall they had waited all year for. They hooted and howled giddily, their faces covered in goofy grins and awestruck eyes as they pushed past Alexei and dove into the snow with the other students. Alexei stood there, looking for what he had smelled earlier, for him it was more important than the snow. He scanned the horizon, eyes open wide and searching relentlessly. After a moment, he saw his target, leaning against a tree on the far end of the schoolyard, her fiery hair waving gracefully in the wind. "Jenna."
She winked at him and gestured to her right, where an open forest lay uninhabited. He nodded slightly and made his way down the steps, his heart pounding harder and harder in his chest.
I'll be back soon... Leiks you're in charge.
You okay, alpha, sir? Flora always worried for her alpha.
Yeah, I just need a walk is all.
But... Leiks put a hand on Flora's shoulder and shook her head.
Alexei walked to the edge of the schoolyard and saw that Jenna was already in the woods. Glancing back at the pack, he grinned like a Cheshire cat and chased after her.
They wound through the trees, picking up speed and tossing their heavy jackets away.
Come catch me, big boy. she taunted.

He watched her every graceful move, following relentlessly until he had her. He wrapped his arms around her in a tackle and they rolled, laughing all the while until they came to a halt. Alexei was on top of Jenna, straddling her legs and breathing heavily with her. She closed her eyes and grinned wide, her chest heaving. The air was freezing cold but they couldn't feel it as he leaned in and kissed her, entwining his fingers into her hair. She kissed back and pulled away, biting his neck in the way she knew would make him go weak. Alexei stifled a moan and Jenna felt his muscles quiver. She took the opportunity to push him onto his back and claim dominance over him by straddling him. The heat from Alexei's body made the snow melt and steam below them. He buried his face in her neck, kissing just below her ear. She smelled amazing, the musk of her animal side mixed with her perfume drove Alexei crazy.
He slid his hand under her shirt and felt the curves of her slender body press against him and she growled. Jenna pulled away from the kiss, a grin on her face, "Not yet, darling. There's time for that later."
"I've missed you, kitten."
She growled softly, "you best stop that while you're ahead." She grinned wider and kneaded her claws into his chest. Alexei called her 'kitten' because of her fondness towards cats, specifically kittens.
"Are the others here too?" He pushed her up off of him and stood up himself, closing his eyes in the process. He was referring to Jenna's friends who had left with her a year ago.
"They got here shortly before I did. They're already at the hideout."
Alexei nodded, "We'll be there shortly. Do you want to come with us for the time being?" They began walking back to the schoolyard, grabbing their jackets on the way.
She giggled, "I suppose I should, so they can get used to having two alphas around." Her eyes twinkled as she said it.
Alexei grinned, "I thought it wasn't for another year! Congratulations!"
There was a glimmer of pride in her eyes. "I couldn't have done it without you, darling. They made an exception for me since you had already trained me so well." Jenna had gone to a Lycan Academy farther north, in Canada. There, wolves would be trained to become better leaders or soldiers, depending on their rank. Jenna had shown great promise immediately and was put into higher groups and classes.
The schoolyard soon came into view, and Alexei's pack was still playing in the snow, throwing snowballs and just rolling around in the stuff like children. He whistled a little tune and each of the pack members looked directly at him, going wide eyed when they saw Jenna. They rushed over as fast as they could and tackled her with hugs. "You're back!"
Jenna struggled to get up as a dog pile ensued. Alexei's wild laugh mixed with the cacophony of greetings as Jenna squirmed out. Flora stood behind Alexei, this new person's presence terrifying to her. As the pack got untangled from each other, Jenna walked up to Alexei and Flora, who hid behind him like a cowering pup. Jenna looked at her, "Hey. I'm Jenna, me and Alexei are old friends."
Flora whimpered quietly but peeked out enough so she could get a good look at Jenna. Alexei turned to the pack, saying, "We're going back to the hideout. There's some old friends waiting there for us."

Chapter 2
The pack carried on as usual, sa

Woke up from the American Dream
     Hungover
     Hellbent on reality

After I saw the worst minds of my generation
      Destroy with their madness
      Rather than exploit their demons

They shot them in the heart with anti-depressants
     and let them wake up
     dead to ambition

They prescribed me like you
     Withdrawal made me like me
    
GOD MODE ON

Just reach for the sun we're touched by
      Fire in the mind.
      Controlled flame

I am American Madness
     Mommy's little monster gone manic
     Mood swinging from the right intentions

I am American Madness
     Jumping this shark with the high horse I rode in on
     Saving my country from soapbox to soapbox

I am American Madness
     The revolution in our minds manifested
     standing up for something un-televised

The psychos in sheep clothing
     Lycanthropy at the right time
     Letting out our own Howl

Standing present
       Our hands are red white and blue in guilt.
       With the ghosts that we're dragging from past lives

Tearing the throat out of
        the things we can run
                but can't hide

Fighting off our demons
      Transmuting the nightmares
      Caught in the American dream catcher.

We could be the champions of the oppressed
      Crossing the first threshold
     We all come back around together

© kenHeike, 2k13

a crazy man attacked me in the morning before i killed a little boy in Cannes.
i prayed for a miracle
when i woke
next to his tattered body
but only got sick
from his flesh.
im much more concerned about
my own flesh now and
need to end it.
this is a terrible waste of time and

scars are a blighted currency.
we speak in overstatements,
blood capsules and parlor tricks
translated villainy romanticizes eras of naturalism
our fate
in the balance of underwhelming prose
and i think i would know
cradled curses
baby i was born this way
you've got to catch up
puking emperors exemplify judgment lapses
and solidify an irreconcilable clash
the study of clinical lycanthropy
is just a step above and beyond the underwhelming

Fearless
PART 1
Chapter 1
It was cold. Freezing. The first day of the winter chill had started here in Washington. There was a semi-secluded high school deep in the woods, holding some two thousand high school students.
Professor Thompson, a younger teacher, was yelling again, "If I see another one of you punks rolling in here halfway through class, I swear I'm going to fail each and every one of you!" Alexei grinned, his eyes closed, mouthing out the exact same phrase in unison with the teacher. His "pack" snickered behind him, nine boys and girls all dressed in dark clothes with varying levels of oddity. They were a small part of the senior class at Liberty High, and had the reputation as dangerous, rebellious punks. They embraced the title, knowing how true it was. They were Lycans. Shape shifters. Werewolves. They all meant the same thing. When they were young, around fifteen, they would have had their first shift. They would turn into Dire Wolves, about twice as large as your normal gray wolf.  During their first transformation, they would be guided to an alpha who would help them transition to the new life, teaching them how to shift at will and how to survive. In this case, Alexei was the alpha and this was his territory.
Alexei stood at exactly six feet tall, was light skinned and was built like an animal, lean and muscular. His straight hair was jet black and ended in a flurry of blood red tips that lay hidden under a heavy black jacket and a hood lined with white fur. Alexei generally kept his eyes closed unless he was angry or upset, using his enhanced hearing and smell to navigate. "Hunter, eyes forward!" Alexei turned his head slightly to the left, where Hunter sat, or rather slept. Alexei heard his pack mate wake up in a daze and groan, "What? I'm still in class? Man this *****." His green hair bounced in front of his eyes, tickling his nose and making him sneeze.
Alexei grinned, flashing his long canines and the rest of the Pack laughed quietly amongst themselves. "Alexei... would you mind keeping your cronies under control, please?" He opened his eyes slightly, their golden glow piercing the darkness of the hood like slivers of fire. The pack immediately went silent.
"Why of course, professor. We wouldn't want to disturb the lecture now would we?" His powerful voice dripped acidic sarcasm, laced with a deadly seriousness. "Right guys?" The question hung dead I'm the air for a few heartbeats.
When no response came, he turned his head sharply, his piercing eyes fully open. "Right?!" His voice boomed throughout the room like thunder and a collection of nervous, 'yes sir, yes alpha' rang out quietly. He closed his eyes again and said, "All yours, professor."
Just bear with it guys, its the last class of the day.
He heard another person's voice flutter into his thoughts. but, alpha, it was Leiks, one of the betas. its snowing... we want to go out.
He growled slightly, And you think I don't? You know how this works, Leiks.
He heard her whimper slightly in submission, backing out of his thoughts. She fidgeted in her seat in the back row, looking out the window at the puffy white flakes cascading down around the school. Her blonde hair ended in purple curls that bounced around her chest. She was shorter, around five foot four inches tall, and was one of the three betas in Alexei's pack. The other two were the twins, Ruby and Sapphire, whose hair was black and ended in red and blue respectively. They rarely spoke to others out loud, keeping their thoughts to themselves. The other four were all deltas or omegas.
Alexei caught a hint of something in the air, it smelled like a sweet musk mixed with crisp apples. The smell sent a tingle up and down his spine for a few moments before settling. He growled softly in his throat, grinning.
Smell something, alpha?, it was Leiks.
Yeah... maybe...
He grinned and felt warm all over, however more impatient to get outside.
Professor Thompson continued with his lecture on mythology, talking about the classic horror creatures like vampires and werewolves. He focused awfully ******* the latter, going on and on about lycanthropy and the horrible nature of werewolves.
Alexei bared his fangs in a silent growl, gripping the edge of his desk hard enough to make it creak in dismay. What does he know.... he hasn't been through it.... he hasn't seen his friends die in front of him… An image flashed before his eyes of a bloodied white wolf lying before him, whimpering helplessly as its crimson blood steamed against the snow. His anger lasted only a second before a hand tenderly gripped his shoulder. His eyes flashed open and he gasped slightly. He snapped his gaze over his shoulder at the pack, their eyes wide and locked on him, emanating dread. The hand belonged to Flora, the youngest member of the pack at 17. Her eyes were full of innocent fear as she looked at her enraged alpha. He nodded and she let go of his shoulder. Alexei turned and shut his eyes again, his good mood soured for now. He took a deep breath and sighed, wishing for that scent again. Five more minutes...
Those five minutes drug on like a glacier, the professor's words trailing off into the distance as he switched topics. Can he go any slower?
Don't jinx us, alpha, sir. came Flora's response.
You don't have to call me sir, Flora. We're a family.
The wolves stayed silent for the rest of the class, listening halfheartedly to the professor. "As you all know, this is the last day of school until January. I hope you all have some plans, some family to go see."
He paused for a moment and then: "Never. Ever. Forget. There is a grain of truth in every myth." The professor was looking directly at Alexei, who cringed slightly. He could feel the teacher's eyes boring into his soul. The bell finally rang, and Alexei was the first one out, quickly followed by the scrambling pack. They wound through hallways and double doors until they felt the tingle of cold touch their skin. They trailed along behind their leader and burst out the doors, welcoming the frigid air and the soft snowfall they had waited all year for. They hooted and howled giddily, their faces covered in goofy grins and awestruck eyes as they pushed past Alexei and dove into the snow with the other students. Alexei stood there, looking for what he had smelled earlier, for him it was more important than the snow. He scanned the horizon, eyes open wide and searching relentlessly. After a moment, he saw his target, leaning against a tree on the far end of the schoolyard, her fiery hair waving gracefully in the wind. "Jenna."
She winked at him and gestured to her right, where an open forest lay uninhabited. He nodded slightly and made his way down the steps, his heart pounding harder and harder in his chest.
I'll be back soon... Leiks you're in charge.
You okay, alpha, sir? Flora always worried for her alpha.
Yeah, I just need a walk is all.
But... Leiks put a hand on Flora's shoulder and shook her head.
Alexei walked to the edge of the schoolyard and saw that Jenna was already in the woods. Glancing back at the pack, he grinned like a Cheshire cat and chased after her.
They wound through the trees, picking up speed and tossing their heavy jackets away.
Come catch me, big boy. she taunted.
I intend to.
He watched her every graceful move, following relentlessly until he had her. He wrapped his arms around her in a tackle and they rolled, laughing all the while until they came to a halt. Alexei was on top of Jenna, straddling her legs and breathing heavily with her. She closed her eyes and grinned wide, her chest heaving. The air was freezing cold but they couldn't feel it as he leaned in and kissed her deeply, entwining his fingers into her hair. She kissed back, biting his lip in the way she knew would make him weak. She felt his muscles quiver and she took the opportunity to push him onto his back and claim dominance over him by straddling him. She smelled amazing, the musk of her animal side mixed with her perfume drove Alexei crazy.
He slid his hand under her shirt and felt the curves of her slender body press against him as she gasped. She pulled away from the kiss, a grin on her face, "Not yet, ***. There's time for that later."
"I've missed you, kitten."
She growled softly, "you best stop that while you're ahead, sweetheart." She grinned wider and kneaded her claws into his chest. Alexei called her 'kitten' because of her fondness towards cats, specifically kittens.
"Are the others here too?" He pushed her up off of him and stood up himself, closing his eyes in the process. The others were Jenna's friends who had left with her a year ago.
"Mmmhmm. They got here shortly before I did. They're already at the hideout."
Alexei nodded, "We'll be there shortly. Do you want to come with us for the time being?" They began walking back to the schoolyard, grabbing their jackets on the way.
She giggled, "I suppose I should, so they can get used to having two alphas around." Her eyes twinkled as she said it.
Alexei grinned, "I thought it wasn't for another year! Congratulations!"
"They pushed it up since I've been moving up so fast." Jenna had gone to a Lycan Academy farther north, in Canada. There, wolves would be trained to become better leaders or soldiers, depending on their rank. Jenna had shown great promise immediately and was put into higher groups and classes.
The schoolyard soon came into view, and Alexei's pack was still playing in the snow, throwing snowballs and just rolling around in the stuff among the other high schoolers. He whistled a little tune and each of the pack members looked directly at him, going wide eyed when they saw Jenna. They rushed over as fast as they could and tackled her with hugs. "You're back!"
Jenna struggled to get up as a dog pile ensued. Alexei's wild laugh mixed with the cacophony of greetings as Jenna squirmed out. Flora stood behind Alexei, this new person's presence terrifying to her. As the pack got untangled from each other, Jenna walked up to Alexei and Flora, who hid behind him like a cowering pup. Jenna looked at her, "Hey. I'm Jenna, me and Alexei are old friends."
Flora whimpered quietly but peeked out enough so she could get a good look at Jenna. Alexei turned to the pack, saying, "We're going back to the hideout. There's some old friends waiting there for us."

Chapter 2
The pack carried on as usual, sauntering on down the sidewalk leading further into the woods with Jenna, Alexei and Flora following close behind.
"How old is she?" Asked Jenna.
"I'm seventeen. This is my first year as-..." she trailed off, still unsure of herself.
"As a Lycan?" Flora nodded softly.
"You know about us?" Asked Flora, bewildered.
Jenna giggled a little, letting flora get a good look at her canines, which extended down to her lower teeth. "I'm one of you."
Flora looked at her, confused. "But you don't smell like them. You smell different."
Jenna glanced at Alexei, who was still strolling alongside them with his eyes closed as usual. "You can tell her, Kitten."
Jenna punched him in the shoulder with a loud thud that would have left any normal person cringing, but Alexei just shrugged it off. He's definitely a lot stronger than I remember.
She turned to Flora, "I'm an alpha. Like Alexei. Each alpha has a different scent."
Flora gazed at her with newfound wonder and fear. Jenna saw this and said, "Don't worry, Flora. I only bite my prey. You're not prey, are you?"
Flora grinned a little, "Of course not."
They had reached a little clearing with ten trees aligned in a perfect circle around a massive evergreen that towered roughly sixty feet tall, casting a massive shadow underneath it. The pack had named it the Forever Tree, with its many years to come. At the base of the ten trees were empty backpacks covered in snow, each one a different style and color. The pack gathered under the Forever Tree and looked at Alexei with a certain desire clear on their faces.
Alexei grinned and said, "Go wild, guys."
"Finally!" The pack began to transform, fur popping out of their skin in a wave of softness, their faces elongating into muzzles and their fangs revealing themselves in their entirety. Their majestic tails struggled to get free from the jackets and pants that surrounded the wolves. They shook the clothes from their bodies, piling them up in individual piles before taking them to the backpacks under the trees. Each one expertly placed their clothes into the bag and then sat patiently next to their trees as the two alphas and Flora watched. Once each wolf was finished, Alexei whistled sharply and they grabbed their bags by the carry handle and formed a line in front of him. Alexei had modified each bag to fit as a harness around the wolves, making the transport that much easier. He helped each one of his pack mates with their bag and they in turn took shelter under the Forever tree. Once everyone was there, Alexei waved them off and they took off into the woods.
"Flora, grab your bag so it doesn't get lost out here."
"Yes, alpha, sir." She ran to grab her bag from the last tree. Alexei and Jenna casually followed, "You don't have to call me sir, Flora. Remember? We're a family."
They followed the paw prints in the snow up a winding path which led to an old cabin, seemingly forgotten out here. The smell of wolf musk was heavy in the air as they approached. The cabin rested on the top of a tall hill, with a winding staircase leading up to the wraparound porch and the two story cabin itself. All the wolves were waiting, already mingled in with each other on the porch. Jenna's pack was roughly five wolves, mostly female. As all wolves find out eventually, whatever modifications they do to their human body, such as tattoos or hair dyes, crosses over to their wolf body. Some used this trick as a way to make themselves unique, or to show a pack allegiance. Alexei's pack were unique in their markings, each one having their hair dyed and having a wolf paw surrounded by a crescent moon. Jenna's pack was similar, though theirs was a long fang piercing a heart.
As they got closer, Jenna's wolves began to bark happily, welcoming their alphas. Jenna's betas were waiting at the base of the stairs, three grey females named Ginger, Lexi, and Anna.
Alex! We're so happy to see you! called Anna, one of Alexei's oldest friends.
"I've missed you guys too, you didn't have to wait down here for us, you know. Go on and say hi to the others." He scratched each of them behind the ears and they ran up the stairs happily. "Flora, you can wolf out now, I'll take care of your stuff."
She looked gratefully at her alpha and shifted into her wolf form, a sleek white, unmarked unlike the others. She ran up the stairs as Alexei gathered her clothes into the bag. Jenna took his hand once he'd finished and they walked up the stairs together, joining the wolves on the porch.
Alexei unlocked the front door and let the wolves into the spacious interior, with a mix of dog beds and couches in the main living area surrounding a large television. The kitchen had been recently stocked by Alexei, the freezer full of uncooked meats of all kinds. Alexei's wolves all gripped the release clip on their harnesses with their teeth and let their bags fall to their side, lining them against the wall near the door. Jenna watched this unfold as her own pack dragged in their own heavy bags from outside, bulky and awkward to carry in wolf form.
"I see you've been busy, Alex."
"I have extras in the storage room upstairs, if you guys are interested."
Her wolves whimpered pleadingly in response, the last one pulling the door closed behind her with a leather strap hanging from the handle.
Alexei turned to Leiks, who was halfway up the stairs already. "You know where they are right?" The black wolf nodded, her necklaces clinking slightly as she padded up the stairs. Everyone began settling down onto the couches and beds and Leiks came back down with five bags for Jenna's wolves.
The snow had begun to fall harder and there was a fresh blanket covering the tracks leading to the cabin. They were watching Balto, one of their favorite movies, when Alexei snapped his head towards the door, eyes open and glowing. He paused the movie and the wolves' attention was now on him as he looked out the window. He swore under his breath and cl

Luna's light gleaning from the field
Deftly bestowing man's undoing
Consigned to ashes of folk
And left longing for creation

The age of the dog so tempered and cruel
Eternal beast of loathe and fear
Struck with the bow of Artemis
And damnation unto despair

From Nature's grasp this beast exhales
Mediating between life and sin
Transcending myth and legend
Betrayal of the highest calibre

Auriel

Helpless
Fearless
PART 1
Chapter 1
It was cold. Freezing. The first day of the winter chill had started here in Washington. There was a semi-secluded high school deep in the woods, holding some two thousand high schoolers. Professor Thompson, a younger teacher, was yelling again, "If I see another one of you punks rolling in here halfway through class, I swear I'm going to fail each and every one of you!"
Alexei grinned, his eyes closed, mouthing out the exact same phrase in unison with the teacher. His "pack" snickered behind him, nine boys and girls all dressed in dark clothes with varying levels of oddity. They were a small part of the senior class at Liberty High, and had the reputation as dangerous, rebellious punks. They embraced the title, knowing how true it was. They were Lycans. Shape shifters. Werewolves. They all meant the same thing. When they were young, around fifteen, they would have had their first shift. They would turn into Dire Wolves, about twice as large as your normal gray wolf.  During their first transformation, they would be guided to an alpha who would help them transition to the new life, teaching them how to shift at will and how to survive. In this case, Alexei was the alpha and this was his territory.
Alexei stood at exactly six feet tall, was light skinned and was built like an animal, lean and muscular. His straight hair was jet black and ended in a flurry of blood red tips that lay hidden under a heavy black jacket and a hood lined with white fur. Alexei generally kept his eyes closed unless he was angry or upset, using his enhanced hearing and smell to navigate. "Hunter, eyes forward!" Alexei turned his head slightly to the left, where Hunter sat, or rather slept. Alexei heard his pack mate wake up in a daze and groan.
"What? I'm still in class? Man this *****." His green hair bounced in front of his eyes, tickling his nose and making him sneeze.
Alexei grinned, flashing his long canines and the rest of the Pack laughed quietly amongst themselves. "Alexei... would you mind keeping your cronies under control, please?" He opened his eyes slightly, their golden glow piercing the darkness of the hood like slivers of fire. The pack immediately went silent.
"Why of course, professor. We wouldn't want to disturb the lecture now would we?" His powerful voice dripped acidic sarcasm, laced with a deadly seriousness. "Right guys?" The question hung dead I'm the air for a few heartbeats. When no response came, he turned his head sharply, his piercing eyes fully open. "Right?!" His voice boomed throughout the room and a collection of nervous, 'yes sir, yes alpha' rang out quietly. He closed his eyes again and said, "All yours, professor."
Just bear with it guys, it’s the last class of the day. He heard another person's voice flutter into his thoughts.
But, alpha, it was Leiks, one of the betas. It’s snowing... we want to go out.
He growled slightly, And you think I don't? You know how this works, Leiks. He heard her whimper slightly in submission, backing out of his thoughts. She fidgeted in her seat in the back row, looking out the window at the puffy white flakes cascading down around the school. Her blonde hair ended in purple curls that bounced around her chest. She was shorter, around five foot four inches tall, and was one of the three betas in Alexei's pack. The other two were the twins, Ruby and Sapphire, whose hair was black and ended in red and blue respectively. They rarely spoke to others out loud, keeping their thoughts to themselves. The other four were all deltas or omegas.
Alexei caught a hint of something in the air, it smelled like a sweet musk mixed with crisp apples. The smell sent a tingle up and down his spine for a few moments before settling. He growled softly in his throat, grinning.
Smell something, alpha?, whispered Leiks.
Yeah... maybe. He grinned and felt warm all over, however more impatient to get outside.
Professor Thompson continued with his lecture on mythology, talking about the classic horror creatures like vampires and werewolves. He focused awfully ******* the latter, going on and on about lycanthropy and the horrible nature of werewolves.
Alexei bared his fangs in a silent growl, gripping the edge of his desk hard enough to make it creak in dismay. What does he know.... he hasn't been through it.... he hasn't seen his friends die in front of him.  An image flashed before his eyes of a bloodied white wolf lying before him, whimpering helplessly as its crimson blood steamed against the snow. His anger lasted only a second before a hand tenderly gripped his shoulder. His eyes flashed open and he gasped slightly. He snapped his gaze over his shoulder at the pack, their eyes wide and locked on him, emanating dread. The hand belonged to Flora, the youngest member of the pack at 17. Her bright blue eyes were full of innocent fear as she looked at her enraged alpha. He nodded and she let go of his shoulder. Her hoodie shadowed her snow white hair as she hid back in her seat. Alexei turned and shut his eyes again, his good mood soured for now. He took a deep breath and sighed, wishing for that scent again. Five more minutes...
Those five minutes drug on like a glacier, the professor's words trailing off into the distance as he switched topics. Can he go any slower?
Don't jinx us, alpha, sir. came Flora's response.
You don't have to call me sir, Flora. We're a family. The wolves stayed silent for the rest of the class, listening halfheartedly to the professor.
"As you all know, this is the last day of school until January. I hope you all have some plans, some family to go see." He paused for a moment and then: "Never. Ever. Forget. There is a grain of truth in every myth." The professor was looking directly at Alexei, who cringed slightly. The bell finally rang, and Alexei was the first one out, quickly followed by the scrambling pack. They wound through hallways and double doors until they felt the tingle of cold touch their skin. They trailed along behind their leader and burst out the doors, welcoming the frigid air and the soft snowfall they had waited all year for. They hooted and howled giddily, their faces covered in goofy grins and awestruck eyes as they pushed past Alexei and dove into the snow with the other students. Alexei stood there, looking for what he had smelled earlier, for him it was more important than the snow. He scanned the horizon, eyes open wide and searching relentlessly. After a moment, he saw his target, leaning against a tree on the far end of the schoolyard, her fiery hair waving gracefully in the wind. "Eve."
She winked at him and gestured to her right, where an open forest lay uninhabited. He nodded slightly and made his way down the steps, his heart pounding harder and harder in his chest.
I'll be back soon... Leiks you're in charge.
You okay, alpha, sir? Flora always worried for her alpha.
Yeah, I just need a walk is all.
But... Leiks put a hand on Flora's shoulder and shook her head. Alexei walked to the edge of the schoolyard and saw that Eve was already in the woods. Glancing back at the pack, he grinned like a Cheshire cat and chased after her.
They wound through the trees, picking up speed and tossing their heavy jackets away. Come catch me, big boy. she taunted.
I intend to. He watched her every graceful move, following relentlessly until he had her. He wrapped his arms around her in a tackle and they rolled, laughing all the while until they came to a halt. Alexei was on top of Eve, straddling her legs and breathing heavily with her. She closed her eyes and grinned wide, her chest heaving. The air was freezing cold but they couldn't feel it as he leaned in and kissed her deeply, entwining his fingers into her hair. She kissed back, biting his lip in the way she knew would make him weak. She felt his muscles quiver and she took the opportunity to push him onto his back and claim dominance over him by straddling him. She smelled amazing, the musk of her animal side mixed with her perfume drove Alexei crazy.
He slid his hand under her shirt and felt the curves of her slender body press against him as she gasped. She pulled away from the kiss, a grin on her face, "Not yet, ***. There's time for that later."
"I've missed you, kitten."
She growled softly, "you best stop that while you're ahead, sweetheart." She grinned wider and kneaded her claws into his chest. Alexei called her 'kitten' because of her fondness towards cats, specifically kittens. Many of her mannerisms also had a feline quality about them.
"Are the others here too?" He pushed her up off of him and stood up himself, closing his eyes in the process. The others were Eve's friends who had left with her a year ago.
"Mmmhmm. They got here shortly before I did. They're already at the hideout."
Alexei nodded, "We'll be there shortly. Do you want to come with us for the time being?" They began walking back to the schoolyard, grabbing their jackets on the way.
She giggled, "I suppose I should, so they can get used to having two alphas around." Her eyes twinkled as she said it.
Alexei grinned, "I thought graduation wasn't for another year! Congratulations!"
"They pushed it up since I've been moving up so fast." Eve had gone to a Lycan Academy farther north, in Canada. There, wolves would be trained to become better leaders or soldiers, depending on their rank. Eve had shown great promise immediately and was put into higher groups and classes.
The schoolyard soon came into view, and Alexei's pack was still playing in the snow, throwing snowballs and just rolling around in the stuff among the other high schoolers. He whistled a little tune and each of the pack members looked directly at him, going wide eyed when they saw Eve. They rushed over as fast as they could and tackled her with hugs. "You're back!"
Eve struggled to get up as a dog pile ensued. Alexei's wild laugh mixed with the cacophony of greetings as Eve squirmed out. Flora stood behind Alexei, this new person's presence terrifying to her. As the pack got untangled from each other, Eve walked up to Alexei and Flora, who hid behind him like a cowering pup. Eve looked at her, "Hey. I'm Eve, me and Alexei are old friends."
Flora whimpered quietly but peeked out enough so she could get a good look at Eve. Alexei turned to the pack, saying, "We're going back to the hideout. There's some old friends waiting there for us."

Chapter 2
The pack carried on as usual, sauntering on down the sidewalk leading further into the woods with Eve, Alexei and Flora following close behind. Flora shadowed her alpha constantly, being the only Lycan she fully trusted.
"How old is she?" Asked Eve.
"I'm seventeen. This is my first year as-..." she trailed off, still unsure of herself.
"As a Lycan?" Flora nodded softly.
"You know about us?" Asked Flora, bewildered.
Eve giggled a little, letting  get a good look at her canines, which extended down to her lower teeth. "I'm one of you."
Flora looked at her, confused. "But you don't smell like them. You smell different."
Eve glanced at Alexei, who was still strolling alongside them with his eyes closed as usual. "You can tell her, Kitten." In retaliation, Eve punched him in the shoulder with a loud thud that would have left any normal person writhing in pain, but Alexei just shrugged it off. He's definitely a lot stronger than I remember.
She turned to Flora, "I'm an alpha. Like Alexei. Each alpha has a different scent."
Flora gazed at her with newfound wonder and fear. Eve saw this and said, "Don't worry, Flora. I only bite my prey. You're not prey, are you?"
Flora grinned a little, "Of course not.” They had reached a little clearing with ten trees aligned in a perfect circle around a massive evergreen that towered roughly sixty feet tall, casting a massive shadow underneath it. The pack had named it the Forever Tree, with its many years to come. At the base of the ten trees were empty backpacks covered in snow, each one a different style and color. The pack gathered under the Forever Tree and looked at Alexei with a certain desire clear on their faces.
Alexei grinned and said, "Go wild, guys."
"Finally!" The pack began to transform, fur popping out of their skin in a wave of softness, their faces elongating into muzzles and their fangs revealing themselves in their entirety. Their majestic tails struggled to get free from the jackets and pants that surrounded the wolves. They shook the clothes from their bodies, piling them up in individual piles before taking them to the backpacks under the trees. Each one expertly placed their clothes into the bag and then sat patiently next to their trees as the two alphas and Flora watched. Once each wolf was finished, Alexei whistled sharply and they grabbed their bags by the carry handle and formed a line in front of him. Alexei had modified each bag to fit as a harness around the wolves, making the transport that much easier. He helped each one of his pack mates with their bag and they in turn took shelter under the Forever tree. Once everyone was there, Alexei waved them off and they took off into the woods.
"Flora, grab your bag so it doesn't get lost out here."
"Yes, alpha, sir." She ran to grab her bag from the last tree. Alexei and Eve casually followed, "You don't have to call me sir, Flora. Remember? We're a family."
They followed the paw prints in the snow up a winding path which led to an old cabin, seemingly forgotten out here. The smell of wolf musk was heavy in the air as they approached. The cabin rested on the top of a tall hill, with a winding staircase leading up to the wraparound porch and the two story cabin itself. All the wolves were waiting, already mingled in with each other on the porch. Eve's pack was roughly five wolves, mostly female. As all wolves find out eventually, whatever modifications they do to their human body, such as tattoos or hair dyes, crosses over to their wolf body. Some used this trick as a way to make themselves unique, or to show a pack allegiance. Alexei's pack was unique in their markings, each one having their hair dyed and having a wolf paw surrounded by a crescent moon. Eve's pack was similar, though theirs was a long fang piercing a heart.
As they got closer, Eve's wolves began to bark happily, welcoming their alphas. Eve's betas were waiting at the base of the stairs, three grey females named Ginger, Lexi, and Anna.
Alex! We're so happy to see you! called Anna, one of Alexei's oldest friends.
"I've missed you guys too, you didn't have to wait down here for us, you know. Go on and say hi to the others." He scratched each of them behind the ears and they ran up the stairs happily. "Flora, you can wolf out now, I'll take care of your stuff."
She looked gratefully at her alpha and shifted into her wolf form, a sleek white, unmarked unlike the others. She ran up the stairs as Alexei gathered her clothes into the bag. Eve took his hand once he'd finished and they walked up the stairs together, joining the wolves on the porch.
Alexei unlocked the front door and let the wolves into the spacious interior, with a mix of dog beds and couches in the main living area surrounding a large television. The kitchen had been recently stocked by Alexei, the freezer full of uncooked meats of all kinds. Alexei's wolves all gripped the release clip on their harnesses with their teeth and let their bags fall to their side, lining them against the wall near the door. Eve watched this unfold as her own pack dragged in their own heavy bags from outside, bulky and awkward to carry in wolf form.
"I see you've been busy, Alex."
"I have extras in the storage room upstairs, if you guys are interested." Her wolves whimpered pleadingly in response, the last one pulling the door closed behind her with a leather strap hanging from the handle. Alexei shrugged off his heavy fur cloak and hung it next to the door.
Alexei turned to Leiks, who was halfway up the stairs already. "You know where they are right?" The white wolf nodded, her necklaces clinking slightly as she padded up the stairs. Everyone began settling down onto the couches and beds and Leiks came back down with five bags for Eve's wolves. She set them near the doorway, in case they needed to le

Arrr arr auuuuuuuu

I get these sudden urges.
(urges, urges, urges, urges)
To go howling at the moon.
(at the moon, at the moon)
This tendency emerges.
(merges, merges, merges, merges)
Feel it comin’ very soon.
(very soon, very soon)

My body structure changes.
(changes, changes, changes, changes)
Bushy hair sprouts from my face.
(from my face, from my face)
My whole being rearranges.
(ranges, ranges, ranges, ranges)
My teeth, deadly fangs replace
(fangs replace, fangs replace)

I gobble up small children.
(children, children, children, children)
Leave adults a ****** mess.
(****** mess, ****** mess)
My habits are bewild’rin’.
(wildrin, wildrin, wildrin, wildrin)
My actions they can’t guess.
(they can’t guess, they can’t guess)

I live as one of you do.
(you do, you do, you do, you do)
‘Til the full moon starts to rise.
(starts to rise, starts to rise)
Then I venture forth to get you.
(hunt you, find you, rend you, **** you)
I may take you by surprise.
(by surprise, by surprise)

Liquify,

Modernize,

Affix,

Me.

Dicast parts,
Formalize,
Metastasize.

I am Growing this agar's too small.

Feral,
Lycanthropy,
Hearts.

Through the stigma,
my bones bleed,
my wreaths hanging,
Sagging.
Of unwelcome,
all my being.
of unwelcome,
all my being.

The Truth of getting older,
the senescence of emotion
The people we love and once were,
Are gone forever.

I am not for this heartless place.
I am but Peter Pan,
understanding.

A bitter struggle,
While trampled underfoot.

Of a world,
Not built for us.

Built for no one.

my body may remain the same,
but i feel unexplicable pain
as though the skin and sinew,
the muscles and fascia
transforming me
into the monster that I am.

(The latter paragraphs are more persuasive than the introductory one)

Clinched by the cloture of clinkstone nebels exhorted the kerygma to truckle nebulizing egintoch nepionic nevosities once pristine now reformed by aggiornamento nidamental to furor and favor against bisontine imaginative byre by the bobstays of badigeon steeving inclemency sequacious to tantony shabracking incontinence (delegating the shakuhachi of fairer brocades for chiffon simity jaded by permissive recidivism) by pushful skalding spurriers bracing for thalassic ucalegon in abthane absterged amende dire to notitia umbels of ultraism isorithmic lest the echard immanent and prevenient over egelidated soteriology florid and variegated in the elutriation of apodictic truth (rather than crumpled deadwood davenport emotivism) that bewilders emys of lost dirigisme foundering in enthymemes against stalwart erotesis of the maieutic ambit and dominion designated for plebania above the naves skeldering for merciful pontiffs to engage the nembutsu windlass around the hadal novantique (established by hamarchy now regnant abroach of elastane prerogatives) eleutherian in nimble recourse. Sociodynamic abscissae prone to abuna trouncing conscientious acapnotic deployment of moral agastopia ahimsa predicated on soteriology renewed despite the akinesia of precedent and the alameda concatenations of tacenda hinged to ameplography wed to sophistries of psephology designated by psaphonic priority ignorant of the proairesis of liberty vouchsafed by anamorphic noogenesis abetted by sleek balustrades of anbury among assorted desmans thwarting detraque in favor of didascalic diremption of baldfaced balbriggan secularism into culminated quatorzain apotheosis regnant in supernal amaranthine energism hybridized with quietism factive to elect ratiocination even when bereaved of common lionization.

Jawhole fairleads of oppositive causes fantigued in the throes of despotism often invoke festination over fissicostation flagitated primordial flenched titrations of frith betrothed to lambrequin lurdan prisoptometry negligent of lineolated limpkins because the brunt of zaftig bronteums transmogrifies zappy junctures into zarzuela plenary because the zayat is just too hinnable in moral brehon to bend their mettle to hods holobenthic in deontology who champion hopsack qasida emphatic in qawwali derricking a deft future for the industrious dobhash of entelechy of broadened dromonds versed in opodeldoc gilded with olivaster onagers (obsequent to insidious oblations of wokism) ixiodic with newfangled irriguous bonanza rather than iopterous conflagrations of dholes indigned in inaniloquent apyrexy. The paragon for civic moralism is arrayed in a matrix of appurtenances apotropaic in sedated throes of stalwart interpunction in idoneous subservience to vulcanized mackintoshes pegged to aleatory nimonic stridulation, bolted in bedrock faith and thriving with idiochromatic genius umbrilizing hippiatric doomsters (hinnable only in specious zuche alloquy of zayat) and foiling farcical ichnology with transcendent sophianic nidor nidamental to sophrosyne spiritualism allodic to trifling secular strife histing godless hoggasters against integral hodiernal homologation.

The hordeiform consensus defalcates hotchpot zendik zenana zabaglione of scripted lycnoscopes of lycanthropy stipulated by their compital nomogeny often lorikeeting mutual laevoduction despite lapatic overhangs of scruple frowning at lazaret frostworks of drygulched fourgon forcipation of desiccated flysch falsidical brinkmanship of specious standpipes masquerading as salvation but only amounting to the **** of stulms against stanjant in sybotic quatsch quademed to profligacy despite frustraneous defaulting inertia of supercilious protanopia repugnant to our best collective enterprises. Orrery orguinnet oryx is mesothermic to osnaburg bootstraps in the overlock of hamstrung ekistics sunken by irrevocable organdie because emphatic empasm less hobbled by multicultural enallage scacchic with enthalpy gradgrinded through gingerly haqueton abducent to fondink dowitchers (whom droshky appoints preeminent) fixating on constellated faculae just to feague around with fontinal ochlesis of powellization freeboarding on deliberate dilapidation of laches laystalling crambos connumerated in tenure of the ulterior congelation of collimated pataphysics bankrolling insatiable cementum cambering with jagged jacquard bonanza for the thickets of constringed monolithic diaspora callow in coordination juddering ancillary skirmishes of boondoggle to bunting fanfare in the jubbah of aleatory jinks. The immarcesible imparidigitate ormolu quaky lest eupsychics and eurhythmics devolve into hamerkop evulsions of abaft nidor of olid aboulia in stark acropathy mandated by ulterior acyesis they fear diminishing returns of wretched adrogation tag-teamed by gammerstangs of barmcloth jarveys of jasperated emasculation aduncating cultural redundancy in the narrowcasted affiance of hamshackled aftergame cobaltiferous in aggerose vengeance against stanjant and lavolta so steep in alembication that pedestrian andragogy must drail isallobar inculcating isobath as sequacious simplicity becomes the byword of the balbriggan flautino to denature (after toiling decades in isopach verisimilitudes of slugabed fysigunkus isostasy) in the most contrary ways to ithomiid nationalism such that we resort to oriflamme conflagrations of ludic phlegmatic osmol into ****** cacotopia.

****** kymatology in the windlass of obtuse tympanies sculpted of pergola parabolaster pomace klendusic to vagary kirking the testudo bellwethers misyoked to godless mofette trutinates the nimble reedbucks pliant to oscitation equipped eagre to ecdysiast stampedes toward eclaircise because of manufactured wantage jaleos and jarabes among the ghawazis handspike repentantly for habanera pupating into moral fullness and divine nimiety isangelous in proxemic sympatric plerophory in revolutionary phoniatrics aggiornamentos vitative to every twiring turtleback taffrail may the volplane of revelation become a virgation and a vastation against rheotaxis vendible as cascading vecordy dismantled by compital grace convolved with evolved kerygma nacreous as synclastic destiny beneficiating oikonisus and holobenthic communion never a bergamask pretense for opaque scofflaw bedaggle baize nympholepsy outlasts. Allemande iceblinks of verglas saccadic idiorhythmic illaqueating implodent mortmains imbruting thorny thickets of impedimenta for expedient skullduggery coempted by blackmasters gridlocked in ineradicable jamdani often postulate in unstercorated tirades the tentation of indehiscence and the inferiae vaccimulgent in retroactive disgust by throttling ingluvies to traffic isanemone contingent on obeluses halyarding wellaway welkins of whelky crutched on alamode abasia divorced from the veteran paradigm of albescent androlepsia supplanted by annectant wellsprings of dodecafid digladiated bangtail footholds of backstay vestige transmogrified into footling forcipation vaunting cultural enallage lagotically optimized into incorrigible and ingravescent hawsehole highbinder rigmarole hindermated often by eximious sedigitation because of epiphenomenal cnicnodes many hotchpots bury in anachoric huggeries of adoptive dedans tasked with the demurrage of akinesia friendly to dentirostral vogues ever pinguefied by wanigans of wapentake by lucrative woodreeves of bobstaying at all cost.

The woonerf of nimonic stridulation calipacing casefied bickerns of sunbittern stanhope sumpters of monolithic harvested indigent outrage solfatara engenders as cathexis to naïve sondation for spodomancy of restive cladogenesis ironmaster vastation of chiffon brocades of rumchunder rhubarbs of smug cultural isanther and pathetic icterical tomfoolery of bonces of isochrone mugience projicient to glochidate presbyophrenia beziqued by briquets and berceuse mockado canque inert in yawny torporific mazut endeavors of virulent mithridatism only demassified to the recherche limitrophes of perspicacity. The afterclap of uxorious tephra mowing tamburitza grampus of gossypine vernalization of vaccimulgent minnesinger singults sintering crepitated jacana jerkinheads cuculine in scaffmaster voltinism simultaneous to vorticism is the impetus of neutrosophy chockablock with allantoid bosky stulms and stannaries replete with ivorride brackling with whorling sastruga rife with scissures seahogging finite notoriety in headlong skintles convenient to chatelaines of mazopathia aggrieved of atocia hedged in thick jawhole quagmires of skiving snallygaster vigor (the protectorate of stalwart strahl of quotidian industry of both striga and stritch in subtended immunifacience) the progenitor of indomitable suretyship swanskin undinism rackrent in dentagra yet redeemed by resurgent soteriology. In conclusion, among both chlamydate springhares and termagant gammerstangs (both monolithic iceblink orguinette abusers of oriel or oryx) one panders oxter oriflamme trapezes above varsal sterility and the other enlists the camber of architectonic bontbokian pergolas of invidious wrox subservient to widespread epilation and imperious squamation are neither the answers nor the questions mandated by this zeitgeist but (sadly) inevitably supined by the eyeservice of modern neutrosophy. We must handspike, therefore, the springboks through the acequia of nomogeny cooperative with quokkas, vangermytes, jordans, britskas and the grognards never mercenary in their heroic devotions to acipenser acropodia acuminating moral integrity to bypass adiathermancy to institute aerophane eunomia aimed at aeviternity agentive in amberjacking moral virtues from the florilegium for aggiornamento and scrupulous revival of nomothetic noogenesis pliant to persuasive ideogeny forever tantalized (even in elflock) to broaden saffron horizons and vouchsafe prosperity and equity for aborning generations predicated on aboriginal compassions.  

Addendum: With gingerly caution, I exhort anyone to read this keeping in mind that my loose figurative language could be misconstrued as menacing, militant, disrespectful or otherwise disheveled and levies no obligation upon the readership. It is an exegesis of many deep arcane truths and constative hypotheses that should be treated with latitude rather than bartered by counterfeit means to miscegenate nolitions mandating the steepest compurgation and bowdlerization of the thickets of tartarology wagering spiritual warfare against the righteous throne of demassified sophrosyne wisdom persevering beyond the thickets of boschveldt schadenfreude that compital degringolade yeuks for so insistently in rabid compagination commorient with evanescent fables destined to die in the aceldama of conscience over the brehon of moral indigence contrahent to the prerogatives of God himself my vindicator and champion who defeats the bronteum of satanic prestidigitation by vanquishing an honest oversight tethered to a marginal maeiutic clairvoyance misleading in maladroit collimations radically spayed by polyphiloprogenitive cofferdams from the dominion and domain of the righteous and the snares and wickedness of false scales of rabid codswallop cackling for a moment only to be snuffed benighted and forever cast into the deepest barathrum of oblivion. God is my vindicator and my champion and my most earnest ambitions staked on love and fortune remain preeminent in every consideration of soldiered entelechy vanguarded by peremptory cloture in spiritual warfare against petty pettifoggery of jagged cisvestism forever defeated.

When walking on the cobbled sweating streets,
Through center town, I stop to have a drink.
Begrimmed the fog in valley sets to speak,
To visions of the “whats already seen”.

Like one who acts like god is here to give,
The mucid trace of once experienced:
Begets my physic, like a *****, and hence.
The lighting call of music down the lane.

The frisk and gambol sure‘d is my measure;
That I should keep on dancing like a child,
With youth by candle light and flushed with mead...
Not drowning now but flying promenade.

By the labyrinth of what’s Implied in thee,
I’m running through the halls of jubilee.
With longing to the forests edge I creep...
Imbibe upon the sweet lycanthropy.

...
Like an involuntary seed,
.......
If it germinates ......
It's no longer a want .......
It's a haunting obsession
Causing urgency to do right
And bravery imbues you.....
You exchange fate for destiny.
Your life becomes currency .......
What an honor to spend ....
When it's for freedom .....
Sending shivers.......and delivers
Ripples through generations of time....
The legend of you and your comrades...
Lifting the weak and subdued to new heights...
clearing the minds
They bask in the righteous
Battle you waged .....
And the good fight you fought ....
They howl from painful memories
Bittersweet tears onto victory
Strike fear to the heart of the enemy
Rising up like the sun ....
They shall carry on inspiring hope ...
As an honor to pay homage in remembrance of you....

It s like an integrated autonomous innocent being
You can't see but you will fight to protect and preserve above
Everything .. ... .
It's lyke an .......
It's like an artesian well
Spring inside......springs ..
It's like an incurable vine
Twined spiraling up your spine .
A separate entity......  
It feeds .....from the spring ....
In your mind you justify ,appeal
Try to reason with it....  
To no avail . ....
It's lycan.......
It's like An addiction ,
Lycan insatiable yet righteous greed ......
A healthy one indeed ......
Self perpetual.......
There's not a problem .....untill someone tries to take it from you.........
And It's lycan .. ......
Stiffens the spine .... .
And the hackle flicks up like needels.........
flings sweat into mist.. .. 
Eyes turn black ,
Lip unfurling .
K9's exposing.....
Coiling back .....like a tensioning
Spring........
Won't be treated like a dog being
Beaten for loyalty......... 
Bites the fist that swings ..  ..
And the taste of blood is sickeningly sweet......
It lycan unwritten law  
You have not authority
Nor reason ......
Dont touch me ....
Leave me be .....
It's lycan............
It  becomes lycanthropy ....
Don't touch my freedom ......
I'll bite everyone and you can't fight this infection .....
Freedom is out there and I'm
Lycan animal with the spirit and appetite to win ...
And I'm hungry like the wolf ......
Never give in ........
The bear attacks in vain .....
The wolf pack will not be tamed!

Derelict lunar phase
Lacking hope
I cope
In my blood lines' archaic
Ways........
Duality ......efficiency
Meekness is not weakness .
Its likened to
Supernatural
Power kept under perfect control.
Picture a raging inferno driving the machine
Thats throwin the coal.
Synergistically
Two opposing poles forced together.
The pressure and heat so intense
Forged an unatural alliance that cannot be severed
The quickening recieved can be a mortal wound
Morally the bite  can be the mordant that
Like rabbies
Clutches you hatches and infests the  psyche
permantly
I writhe in fever thrive in the strife and love the maddness it brings
But thats just me

Lycanthropy
The triple beam
Allows me to be
The perfect friend and  gentle man
You see
Whilst staving off the rage
In the forge
I fiend
On this lunar cycle
Emotions. lachrymose to ******
The pendulum
That undulates
In the pit of me
Epitome of
A melancholy
Sanguine

It's like a need......
...
Like an involuntary seed,
.......
If it germinates ......
It's no longer a want .......
It's a haunting obsession
Causing urgency to do right
And bravery imbues you.....
You exchange fate for destiny.
Your life becomes currency .......
What an honor to spend ....
When it's for freedom .....
Sending shivers.......and delivers
Ripples through generations of time....
The legend of you and your comrades...
Lifting the weak and subdued to new heights...
clearing the minds
They bask in the righteous
Battle you waged .....
And the good fight you fought ....
They howl from painful memories
Bittersweet tears onto victory
Strike fear to the heart of the enemy
Rising up like the sun ....
They shall carry on inspiring hope ...
As an honor to pay homage in remembrance of you....

It s like an integrated autonomous innocent being
You can't see but you will fight to protect and preserve above
Everything .. ... .
It's lyke an .......
It's like an artesian well
Spring inside......springs ..
It's like an incurable vine
Twined spiraling up your spine .
A separate entity......  
It feeds .....from the spring ....
In your mind you justify ,appeal
Try to reason with it....  
To no avail . ....
It's lycan.......
It's like An addiction ,
Lycan insatiable yet righteous greed ......
A healthy one indeed ......
Self perpetual.......
There's not a problem .....untill someone tries to take it from you.........
And It's lycan .. ......
Stiffens the spine .... .
And the hackle flicks up like needels.........
flings sweat into mist.. .. 
Eyes turn black ,
Lip unfurling .
K9's exposing.....
Coiling back .....like a tensioning
Spring........
Won't be treated like a dog being
Beaten for loyalty......... 
Bites the fist that swings ..  ..
And the taste of blood is sickeningly sweet......
It lycan unwritten law  
You have not authority
Nor reason ......
Dont touch me ....
Leave me be .....
It's lycan............
It  becomes lycanthropy ....
Don't touch my freedom ......
I'll bite everyone and you can't fight this infection .....
Freedom is out there and I'm
Lycan animal with the spirit and appetite to win ...
And I'm hungry like the wolf ......
Never give in ........
The bear attacks in vain .....
The wolf pack will not be tamed!

early worm complete.
with lycanthropy eyes
on your last slice
of Pi.

tossing a divot to a ripple
at high tide…

like a stealthy splash
in a Pondering.

with a moon
moustache.

and an Always wandering….