Of a Ghost

Image

 

Dig your grave

Tip it back of a decanter aged

Past, present, set future

Cover the mask, forget the others

Voice of reason doubts

To be or not your fault

Fallen in deep, so dig

Dig the hole deep

 

Devil in disguise

Trouble is the name

Your fallen demise

Forge hope the faith

Of never considered reality

In the depths of your insanity

Bloom above, above the

Grave dug deep

 

Fight or flight

Test of trust in self

In shared want of touch

Needed not heeded in

A reality of pipe filled dreams

Like rainfall and sunshine

Dig the hole deep

Bloom above the shrine.

See? Taste? Know?

See?

The heart sings

Dance on marionette strings

Pulled by the touch of a lover,

Dance, dance and discover –

Never displeased by the sight,

Caught, enraptured by delight.

Taste?

The petals of parted lips

In softest pressure of a kiss,

Enthralled by the desirable need

The juice of which you feed

To satiate the infinite void

The heart which was destroyed.

Know?

The quiver of heart strings

The soul’s own plea sings,

Dancing the dance of a lover

Caught in the touch discovered –

By not the wisest ways of the world

But by the heart of petals unfurled.