Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Nothing is as it seems (or as it doesn’t)

this ghost is awake
devastatingly aware that this (after)life is no fairytale
happiness is a fabrication
ignorance is bliss
let the wretched bask in the glory of the truth

beg and plead for it
(ask and you shall receive) it
take it ghost
steal it
and swallow it all

The ghost prefers the burn of the sun over the sympathy of the shade.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Can I tell you a secret?

The ghost has a valentine this year. His name is Dracula. He is the vampire to chase (who has never been caught). Until now. His capture was not under duress, but a voluntary submission (a release, philosophical surrender into bliss). This is not defeat.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

she cuts the perfectly shaped heart from a sheet of blood red construction paper (the edges, slightly askew from the shake of her hand). it feels silly and maybe a little bit juvenile.

But she is in love, so she just doesn’t fucking care.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Attempts to penetrate this gable have failed

dracula and the ghost
undead under one roof
tucked away, deep in the recesses of the underworld
the coordinates of their location
hidden and undisclosed

{Upon Emerging}
they ascend to the peak and arrive at a summit
overcome by the vast (and immense greatness)
their hands join to leap over the edge
so that they might
take flight

Thursday, February 9, 2012

If you want to kill the ______, ignore it.

my dear Ghost
it is time to admit

that the scab you continue to pick, re-open and make bleed will never heal until you cease
leave it alone and let it be
that scab cannot hurt you, but the scar will remind
you can only hurt yourself, Ghost

Zombie = Scab
Scab = Nonentity

insignificance is what this zombie’s edifice embodies
the presence is without importance because the Ghost says it is so
and so it is

Zombie = Nothing

Monday, February 6, 2012

You’re worthy if you want to be

The trust of a na├»ve ghost is Dracula’s most coveted collaborator
He is the artful lover, incompetent liar

Reckless indiscretion, the construction of the careless
Nothing is without consequence
There is no carpet to sweep under
No sand to bury your head

Gifting terms of endearment with the greatest of ease
His L-O-V-E without a second thought, blink of an eye

How many baby, sweetie and honey(s) can one vampire own in an afterlife?
If this is to be authentic, true
Validate our existence with indisputable, unadulterated reality
Eyes open wide (is this your first time?)

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + +

This may be (bad) prose and verse, flawed even
Yet in spite of it all, undeniably honest and that’s all anyone can ask for (right?)

no i won't let love disrupt, corrupt or interrupt me
i won't let love disrupt, corrupt or interrupt me
yeah i won't let love disrupt, corrupt or interrupt me