howling at the moon

my own

comes late at night

not always in drink

under the influence

once in magic

clutching my stick wand

creating the circle

hearing the world

in all of its senses

crackling in the undergrowth

clouds past by the moon

the wind whipping my words

into the dark

hearing the dogs

sing them right back

wondering if i was being foolish

hoping for no humans on the track

more often

this is a release of rage

venting pent up emotions

not that often do I do this

a need every now & then

pain out loud into the world

escaping this thin cage

levelling up

levelling out

across the void

maybe one time you’ll hear

stop & think

ah, yes,

the fool there on the hill

at it again

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