WOLVERINE

By Nova Zion

The dark, twisting corners in this man's old head

Tell of lies and betrayals the man has been fed

The calm and control as sharp as a knife

To shred the untruth and call back his life.

Memories float up from the soup of his mind

The cruel, sinewy threads to which reality binds

The deepest of reality is his life at the moment

Not the homicidal images that rush back in a torrent.

The fresh, sharp tang of newly spilled blood

The feel of his lungs during the chemical flood

The knitting of bones as he healed fast and strong

The thrill of the hunt screamed in blood-curdling song.

A sneering man's face with golden blond locks

The claws come up fast and already he talks

They howl and they fight, their claws sharp and fast

Is this memory real or another fake past?

The untruths of his past are a life not begun

He is at the start of the darkness and it beckons to be done

His toes are at the edge to take the last leap

There would be no more worry but everyone would weep.

He looks into his heart for best wishes and desires

And sees the thoughts lurking behind the shadows of fires

Or trees in his memories or life in the cold

Of the Canadian wilderness before he was old.

The pure rage and hate which fills up his soul

As the most loved of his thoughts are horribly retold

The alien tissues which fill his brain with the lies

Are dangerously close to the dark taking rise.

He wants the dark to come home and swallow him up

To take away the pain and kill this poor pup

With memories untrue, a bloody X-marked gene

The claws of metal and eyes of aquamarine.

There is a small, quiet gathering behind his crouched back

In his head, in the shadows were once he did lack

The friends, they are calling and they will not flee

'They genuinely do love and care for me.'

Curls, waves and washes of fiery red hair

Beautiful green eyes with souls that do bare

Bright sparks of light and a sharp lovely grin

A dark chocolate beauty with a high goal to win.

A face of maiden with soft, warm brown eyes

A wild violet woman holding shadows inside

His 'daughters' and anchors for hold on his soul

Angry at him for wanting no more control.

He steps back from the murderous thoughts that advance

Though never completely, he is far too entranced

Just enough for them to feel safe and protected

About never thinking his mind was defected.

The edge is still calling out more desperately

And he wants it all now, as far as he sees

The freedom and rage and unsuppressed thought

Of the senseless slaughter of hundreds that fought.

But he can't have this dark-held life at the moment

If it means forgetting the human just for his enjoyment

As he walks back to the gathering, his human side shows

Just how important love is to know.