Full Moon

Alone one evening, jogging through park,
An eerie mist befogs the dreary wood;
My hackles stand on end here in the dark,
Strange moonlight from above wends through my hood.

A howling, high and near, is on the hunt,
And paralyzed by fear, my body sleeps;
A hulking, loping beast does me confront,
And charging for its feast, the werewolf leaps.

It pins me to the ground, its breathing hot,
Its thick arousal pounds against my chest;
And soon my frightened tail does meet its knot,
And with this lonesome trail, I am obsessed. 

It seems I have a penchant for the fright;
For I return there each and every night.