They say there is a ghost nearby,
but it is not me.
Though they seem to see right
through me,
talk roughly over me,
and though my hand passes through
physical objects with ease,
Couldn’t possibly be me.
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And have I wounded
With my mindless words
Have I opened
An old envelope of pain
Not meaning to
But the road to hell, they say
Is paved with good intention.
Prom queen
beauty
discovers
youthful charm
lost as unsightly
greenery
develops
on her cheeks
and chin.
Wandering night
shores
my restless muse
keeps me spinning
summoning
life in ink.
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Thought played
Like a cavorting imp,
Unrestrained,
Struggling against the leash
used to bind her.
She mewled cat phrases
While she tore at the frayed edges
Of crenellated brain cells
With her uncapped claws.
All downstrokes,
Ripped blinding synaptic gashes.
A phone winkled
In surprise visit
And the thought,
Scared child,
Swept itself into the darkness,
Darted away into the ether
Lost forever.
I haven’t seen my friend Anne in a while.
My parents say sad things that don’t make sense,
“Her dad will never walk her down the aisle,”
And now they talk about her in past tense.
We dress in black and all get in the car,
It coughs to life and then we’re on our way,
My father says that we won’t go too far,
Somehow I feel that this is a sad day.
We pull up to a scary looking place,
Her parents are in front both wearing black,
Has Anne been lost? I hope that’s not the case.
We walk in together, no turning back.
In the big building she lays in a dome.
They call it a coffin, her brand new home.
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