What I know of monsters

Fascinated, to say the least My life entired, was for the beasts I sought out, and I became. Slag to rag, and then profane. Hulking shifting changing brutes. Sulking, sculling, hoofed with flutes. Horns and tails and claws, some fake. Coated with scum from Lochs and lakes. Filth under beauty, and beautiful filth. Some that were timeless 'pon piles of wealth. Hours turned days, then days turned to years, but none ever came close enough to cure fears That I did deposit, Werewolving my tears back at the moon. I race through thickening changings and habits too sooned. I can't stop the past, and I'm spent on today. Tomorrow is too late, to make things okay. I can feel my eyes sharpening and my skin start to crawl. My centers are parting as my bottomless fall. I've asked every fiend to get me back to new. They said the "Monster's not me, the monster is you."