NEW WRITING:

He staggered around in the moonlight, his night vision was shot, his body lost - had been in a low for a while now. His ankles shivered and his knees slid, his arms flailed and his jawline cracked. He was a distorted wolf in moonlight, a creature fumbling within the endzone of life. He closed his eyes and searched for dreams of younger days. He hummed to remember, but all he got were dreams of shallow - all fantasy and vaseline on the lens. Had his life really been blessed, a storyline in dream? He didn't think so, but it sometimes helped to believe so. He held out his arms like a hooked cruciform, and fumbled with a dance to an old song. His bare chest was shrunken, and his waist was flabby. He couldn't see his ass, but his imagination was brutal. He stopped the dance, and tried to remember. He let down his arms - they lay stringy and immobile at his lean sides. He smiled. He couldn't be low, couldn't be lost. He may be an old wolf in moonlight, but what the hell. He was drunk and he needed another. He set up his old song dance again, and shifted - half blind - in the moonlight.