Weather is bitter,
sitting on chair, smoking.
Pipe allows small, dull
Embers to be spewed forth.
Tiny specs of dancing light
Hurt my eyes. Wince at them.
Think of spouse, thoughts
turn to her without
clothes. Berate self
inwardly and outwardly.
Frown, chunter, growl.
Grit teeth, teeth turn to fangs.
Don’t question this.
Know what will happen.
Welcome it,
welcome the fur and
claws, the tearing of
my muscles.
Wait in the dark for her,
laugh to myself – a growling cackle
escapes my newly formed maw.
Don’t worry about the mess I made.
Will deal with it later.
Sensory overload: smell
a hundred thousand
different flavours dancing
along the air. Meat, sweat, dust,
old paper from old books, smoke –
the smoke burns my nose,
I wince at it.
Hear her car enter the driveway
like a boulder being
dragged along the ground.
Her key clatters through the lock,
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WILDsound Festival 