The Hour of the Wolf

[Todd]

Hi Loretta, a few comments on your new edit.

The Hour of the Wolf (edit 2)

Fog engulfs the lonely shack,
inside, a trembling man in black
kneels sobbing, at a cold steel cross
repenting, of a Kingdom lost.
He's brought his baggage of despair
dressed to kill in a suit of hair. --dressed to kill is cliche though you do come close to redeeming it for me through the irony
This wolf has supernatural flair
to tear the baggage of despair
now free embrace with musty air.

The man begins to pace,
and pace,
his heartbeat is a record race.
His stomach bleeds acidic gall
exploding onto floor and walls--walls isn't really a rhyme. Wall would sound better here
his head spins and races
to dreaded memories,--I'd be tempted to cut dreaded as its too telling and simple pull up "and faces" to the end of this line
and faces, as he paces
and paces
on the shadows
of the blood red vomit stained floor.--I'd maybe cut stained. You have a lot of modifiers here.

He suffers from the tearing claws
the pain of unrelenting jaws,
of the wolf who awaits
a fearful weeping place,--this feels like it needs to lead of with "in"
now sucks his living breath
the life of him, his will:--This is where you could play with the sucks in the last line a bit more something like "the marrow of his will" perhaps
The hour of the wolf,
is meant to kill.

The clock hung on the wall, it--hung seems unnecessary
ticks,
ticks
ticks
approaching dawn.
Unknowing of the violent storm
a ray of light intrudes
to shine upon,
a battered shell of man
sprawled across a chair:
The hour of the wolf
the depth of living hell
and our despair.

The edit is an improvement. I hope the comments help some.

Best,

Todd