I never fancy the moon.

Perhaps that’s 

Why the whaling sounds of the wolf 

scratches the surface of my ear drums 

The moon 

dressed in its violet cloak shrouded in diamonds

Lurking in the shadows 

The moon 

Lures it’s victims into a false sense of security. 

The moon knows how to sing 

A sirens song 

Knows how to make you feel safe 

Before spiraling you into it’s web. 

The moon, I fancy 

Perhaps thats 

Why the melody’s that spring from a bats wing can draft me into the sea. 

The moon 

In a sapphire gown filled with fireflies

Flows through the night

The moon 

Sings me sweet songs. Of honey. 

The moon loves to dance 

So here we are together hopping around like two hares searching for a way back.