Head Jar

He sat and watched the box and

Heard the noises that echoed inside

and the box

Was wolves and the

Hunt and the shadow

The box was

Adrenaline and the

Hope was wasted “time,”

He thought.

“It is time to stand up and leave.”

But still the noises sounded

In thrall he was no longer his own

And this was the noises of the

Wolves and the hunt and the shadow

Woven into chains so he

Could not stand

And miracles as he sat

Fiction was become history

Just as the foolish dream was beginning

To awaken

He hoped to open the box

And feel the fur and the blood and the darkness

Envelope him

He hoped to feel the adrenaline invade his veins,

To feel the noise reverberate through his bones

But still,

Still.

The hope was wasted time.