On certain nights I find myself howling wildly in the moons general direction.
Not, you understand, in a werewolf-ish
kind of way, no. It happens at a peculiar moment in time, during a specific predetermined activity. Apparently it is when I manage to get a certain way down towards the bottom of a whiskey bottle. If only I knew where it actually occurs, I should really mark the bottle in future before I start drinking. I never do though. Anyway as I was saying, it happens more frequently as the moon grows in fullness. I feel this pull, from the moon, and it's light shines down on me entirely, almost like a tractor beam from an 80's sci-fi movie. And when this happens, with me swooning from the alcohol I've ingested and the moonlight intent on pulling me yonder, I seem to resort to a base instinct. My id, as Freud would proclaim magnificently, my root chakra. So then when this animalistic purge commences I feel ..... almost ..... complete, in a strange sense. I feel barbaric and true, and want to tear the night into non existence with my cry. I see the moon shine in jealousy of my purest desires, and it makes me rise to my feet. And dance through ecstasy. And fall with
intoxication, then rise once more.
It is truly a beautiful moment, but
that is all it shall be. A moment.
To be enjoyed, fulfilled entirely as it naturally is. Desired, experienced and released within an instant, surely the sanest thing imaginable? Oh how I do anticipate that sweet, sweet moonlight...
R