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Ghosts
Tattered a bridge over an expanse, and a tot tries his way through, his eyes yet to open, his footsteps still drunken, and oh, my heart is running, it is on the brink, and I die a little with every step taken, but it is life, a huge bridge with gaping holes, waiting for you to sink, and your name to be forgotten. I see me in him, a man with the eyes of a hawk, the appetite of a vulture, and the courage of a raven, burnt to embers by the sharp eyes of life, reduced to ashes by the tough fires of hell. I see myself in the past, when I still had life, before I turned into a ghost.
I see myself, poisoned by the roots of existence, consumed by the wild and strange pleasures of life, and my time is gone, tortured by pleasures I cannot partake in, for my tongue hath lost taste. Just like the tot, I am blind, too far, too lost to be saved.
I look beyond to see my future, but it is a bastard, and my past is an orphan, myself a sterile man who never birthed, but lost.
Tonight it shall be dark, and I must go to where the lanterns shine, lest the shadows smother me, and the night claims me as its own. Hark, thunder and lightning. The clouds shall truly miscarry tonight, and pile the flesh of misery on the tired bones of my misfortune, and they shall make a dripping coat, and place it on me, a broken crown of time. The forbidden spawn shall flood the earth, and no more shall I know home, so I am going to find a lantern and stick close to the light. I shall find me some shoes, so I can step out when it is too cold to walk. I shall find myself a glove, to cover me in this blistering wind of the present. I shall walk the road unknown, to search for freedom, a search with no end, but with a start, aimless wandering without salvation.
And so when the cold whimper will be heard, a coward’s way out, you shall know that my soul has been trapped, and fear will be sweeping through my heart, ready to leach through my pores as soon as I close my eyes, and you shall see my ghost.

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