(20 minute poetry)

This has gotta be wack
when you open your eyes and find
you're out on a day trip travelling back, but unsure of the why of it.

Not sure of anything though it all looks familiar.

Then a switch flicks on and I'm back to where I belong and wondering why or if I was worried at all.  

It's the shaking if lenses are shook that makes me look on the dark side and to look there is to be there even if only in spirit.

When 'Marley' comes upon me and the chains start to rattle
I battle as best as I can.

one man against an army of ghosts.

Unenviable odds about evens
although the bookies have them
as clear favourites, but what would
they know?

Self preservation and protestations of innocence or guilt are what built the empire
I'd fire the lot of them and take my chances with dead men.

It's gotta be
wack
switch.
and I'm back.