Full Moon

On any night where the moon hangs low and full, there is an urge that pulls at some Men's hearts. Especially after a few drinks. A desire to leave society, run naked through the woods screaming for no other reason than being alive. An appetite to destroy themselves and anyone within arms reach. Figuratively or literally. The transformation is not physical, but still leaves one completely unrecognizable.  On any of these nights, look for the man with his gaze fixed upon the sky.
The next day in the shower the hot water hits the back of my head, where my neck and skull meet, soothing the remains of any primal intentions left over from the previous night. That "day after phlegm fueled cough" only a smoker knows begins and I discharge tar and mucus. Probably the most satisfying thing that I'll do all day. The hot water runs down my body, making me feel somewhat human again, while outside the bathroom window birds can be heard. Winter is coming to an end, listen to those birds. Washing my face, the stubble feels rough on my hands and reminds me that I'm no longer a boy but a grown Man. "Goddamnit act like it." I think to myself while trying to remember if I wronged anyone last night. I don't think so. Probably just took advantage of a sympathetic ear at the worst. Outside, the cigarette smoke travels through the air quickly as I puff away some of the headache. Listen to those birds. Watching some teenage kid deliver newspapers to the houses surrounding this one reminds me of doing the exact same thing as Her at that age. Walking through this neighborhood, delivering newspapers, listening to sad songs on my Ipod, thinking sad thoughts. I was damned from the beginning, but listen to those birds. Winter is coming to an end.

Within Arm's Reach

Let us toast to whoever's closest
Drink to our identical desolation
A centrifuge
Holding onto each other while the room spins around us
Exhale me from your mind's body when you can no longer take the suffocation