I find most times
that as I walk just me and I,
I find that me likes to spark up a conversation.
And I know
That I always respond.
But while it may seem fun for some time,
I am just talking to myself.

Hovering
over deep rolling hills,
grass grooving with the pull of the wind,
blue skies deeper than the depths of the ocean.

You spot a white door against the green grass.
Framed in white, with radiant light emitting from within it.
A supernatural glow unlike seen before, this door.

Unexplained forces pull on your emotions
As you wonder where this door could lead.
The wonders one could behold...
like streets lined in gold!
What new paths a man could take…
like a dream with no wake!

Yet, the door floats on by,
...
Out of reach.
...
No way in,
...
No way out.
...
It floats on by.

Ghosts
grab my ankles and hold me back
like a plastic bag catching my shin in the wind.
The slight tug and pull draws my attention to you.

I have yet to know what you wanted,
and maybe I wouldn’t feel so haunted
if you would meet me once again.