fog haunts the soggy moors rolling
through the heart capturing every curve
as darkness becomes night and stars shine light
the full moon brings upon the beast a transformation
one which rocketing silver bullets &
angry pitched fork mobs hold no power, only struggle
for the beast within is consumed with hunger
overwhelmed by taste of love want need; of you ...
climbing high atop the heart and mind to look for 'soon'
beast howls for only you to hear ...
van Helsing could not murder the beast
that prowls the soggy moors waiting
for he has seen the lies in the souls surrounding
she is a slave but to time ...
she will not prowl much longer there for she has heard his reply ...
soon she will be delivered to him
him whom desires to quench her wild beautiful heart...
as her heart belongs to him, the one
understanding the beast in the beauty.