the wolf sings

sings a lullaby

lonely and heard by none

least by her

his mother and host

his only one

his lover

his flesh emptied

his skin spread

restored according to the memories of those

who never dreamed to dare

come close to him

in his life

while in death

they admire and hold and stroke and breathe on his skin

torn and flat

his eyes rid of light

not mute

reflecting only the confines

of these lifeless walls

that smell, no - reek, of old and long forgotten dreams

of brown thoughts

of greenish hopes

of pale smoke

that never saw the air of freedom

the wolf stares right at me

upon our first encounter

he asks

who are you

why stare at me

why come to visit

what is it that you’re searching

what is it that you’ve missed

until you found me

my vacant plastic stare

that you somehow

you recognise as mine

mine that stared right into those that took my life


it’s cold in here

i say

i long for warmth

and fur like yours they used for warmth isn’t that so

look at that fur they used to say

they had forgotten

once you were a wolf

one to be freed perhaps

now nothing but that fear I read in all your being that no longer is

no longer breathes

a life into the hearts of those

who held you once

who now explain what is it like to touch you

just like a dog, perhapsĀ