The time of the wolf

Rotted trunks in the infinity
trunks are moss-grown
branch plaited in embrace
dance of icy wind
among sleeping woods
covers up lonely wolf's track
wild and lonely wolf's track
I sweep animal's cold eyes
over deadly scenery of wood
under shiny grey fur
there are lethal white fangs
welcomes silver fullmoon in the night
I smell by the wind
scent of the blood
my vision becomes sharper
i am like a wolf
My hearing receipts
inauddible whispers from beyond
my spul is howling to the moon
my body took over
inhumen nibleness
my mind are full of lust
i am like a wolf