We are ghosts.
Transparent in nature.

A haunting.
Who drifts through walls
to phantom halls.

Our scream,
an echoed whisper.
The faintest rustling of curtains...
A door which opens in the night
to those who glimpse a flash of white...

We exist in different worlds
on stranger maps
through ancient times...

from those who laugh and breathe the air,
in crowded rooms
through haunted homes...

I saw the
                   frozen
                              w a t e r...

                                                          ­                                           ...strange that sweat
                                                         ­                             was pouring down my face....

                                                       The children playing silly games
                                                         seemed icy figures lost in space.

   ...and though cold flowed throughout
         my bones
  like rivers made of snowy stone...


                                                  ­                                                                 ­               warm was my skin like
                                                            ­                                                                 ­              drunken sin,
                                                            ­                                                             and now I'm lost;
                                                           ­                                                  a specter alone...

The moon looks the same everywhere that I go... forever lovely and whiter than snow.

I stare in the sky and ask my questions
with a slightly
humble
voice,
but all that goes throughout my mind
is snatched up
by a different
choice.

The west of me wants only to see
the world in raging fearful fire.
While the east of me,
which craves the free,
wants only to calm the hostile desire.

With hope they'll break the selfish hand and work towards more than something grand...

I tried to make a home inside my head where columns stood with pride.
The walls were made of gingerbread and all were free to come inside.
I couldn't fix the recipe and the tasted remained so bittersweet.
A cynical romantic soul is all I think I'll ever be...

You are stronger than this.

A door was opened a long time ago and it stood there for many years waiting for someone to cross the threshold.
No one dared to walk through.
We all stared in fear at it and talked amongst ourselves, wondering what could wait on the other side.
The door just sat there gathering dust and age gnawed away.

I believe in you.

We heard a whispering on the other side and always questioned the words.
They never were loud enough to startle us but they were not quiet enough to put us to sleep.
We still stood in fear at what could be waiting for us.

I understand why you hide, I understand why you cry.

I watched a man run out of the darkness one day.
He leaped through the door and fell a thousand stories.
I never heard him hit the ground and so I took a step closer.
Then I took another.
I heard someone take a step behind me.

One day You will understand and you will step into the sunlight.

I started running and I leapt through the door.
Now I am falling through the sky and it is so beautiful.
The stars are guiding me along...


You are beautiful. Remember that.

...and yet even now I look out my window and see something new.
I stepped off my doorstep and fell a couple thousand stories,
but here I am walking and talking like an actual human being.


Though, as usual, I am drunk and listening to tropical music. for some reason it calms me down, and right now I need it.
There are no faces or voices here I recognize.  I guess it is time to get used to it.

I know this isn't really a poem but I wanted to say something while I still can breathe.

Hopefully this will go until the...

dusk.