In Title, only

What can I write here that will satisfy the long dead lurch that somehow still exists within me?

This being who once howled at the moon behind my eyes

and sank its fangs deeper and deeper into my thoughts

forcing them to bleed truth

and I would lap every drop, parched for anything resembling water.

But with time, it has crumbled

I could have reached down my hand into the vague depths and come up soaked in blood

and smeared any of it on this canvas and called it

art

in title only, of course.