Wolf mountain

Hello cursor. Cursed by my father to hold up the loose ends to the candle light. I’m a moth by the night, fire, and ice, melting out of eternal good nature. What’s the problem with ego? I haven’t the slightest clue. I don’t like your lack of one. Sucking me dry by the fire, I am wood, pulp and rooted to the feelings beneath me. Rise to the surface once a millennium to bring the family to light. Loose change and chains, waiting by the bus stop with a machete, I plan a focused attack. The weeds, sucking my substance. The weed, burning in my eyes. I wonder what I miss about the smoke, but can’t remember. I’m high now like I once was. Missing the point is no longer an option. I had a head of steel in a knight’s body, moving my way across the board of the bored. You ask for a reason, I’d give you purpose, in silence and staring. Let me introduce myself, I don’t need your help. I have a shake that can’t be seen, thrown in the back of my throat, and holding up the register, let me see what you’re made of. I count backward on my hands the staring seconds of demons, clockwork creatures creeping out from the back yard. I used to toss the ball with you until the sun went down. Now I embark with the trees and the wolf. I know there is a time to decide what’s right, for now, I don’t know, but I move. Forward, away from my mother, lost souls in America dipping our heels on our own. Time takes away the feeling of then, but if you’re hungry enough, you live in the moment for now. The future is away from us, like a carrot, I’m no a*s as you will soon see. The tucking of blankets, the crimpling of ears, the catching of fire and flying towards the moon, landing us here to be seen by the few who didn’t believe us. I have a pack, but no gear. A map but no X, I mark my own spots and bleed from my chest by way of pins through a sign reading, “The last of me.” I got lost on my way to the campus. I got away from the books that scared me. I wrote my own meaning and found that it was my father’s fathers. The scraping of metal and sharpening of tongues is enough to keep my edge. Surrounding us, I smirk. The message is clear when unspoken, I wrap up in you, in the butterfly’s that come out your mouth whenever you sing your song. The sound is unheard by the loose headed lopes around town. This faith is different. It clings to sides of my mouth and I know they almost know what I mean. This muse is the last and the first, it has no name. I am Marty from the future, and I know mine to be real, I escape within the open pockets of nothingness that feels so uniting in fact, like the cell like the structure of stars, I fly towards the cars, open-ended, The end, the unraveling end. Messages in stone, carved and buried dead, such is man to keep the fire going, such are beasts to wait for it to die. The devil is in the details, and I know the descriptions surrounding but have learned to keep moving. I am half the way I was and will be, no more, no less, now, I am not concrete. Now, I am the wind. I make your body as the mountain over millennia, etching out your face, where the wolf still runs, where the trees still sway. So now I am speaking around you, you never know where I end. I play the game of my father, forgotten in time, to be lit, like a pilot, across all avenues, down all streams. Follow the gravity. Follow the weight in your chest, taking you down like family, dying for eternity to come and sweep you off your feet, to where you can see what you can see. To tease the flame, and lick the words, and taste the irony blood.