I thought to those hands that draw my strings
why do ghosts only haunt the living?
Fear slithers down from the stains on my ceiling
coiling thickly around my throat
dripping fetid sweat
from the tips of its' fangs

“To Spur You To Run”

so down the darkened hallways and
out to the *****
downtown streets I flew
skittering fitfully between the alleys
for risk of being seen
before slipping into that same empty bar
great bartend, ferry me from the whispering docks
ducking onto that same crooked confessional
oh holy bartend save us, your sons, we fallen fiends
where I am promptly handed
my glass of Sorrow
deliver us from evil
atop a napkin wrote with print

“All The Better To Drown You With”

it seems I have forgotten
if this sip or the last
was bitter or sweet
but it burns my eyes
cracks my ribs
thickens the air
and in the moment I see that face
out beyond the foamy waves
that shore upon the dregs
oh hallowed face of Judgement,  
it seems blackened ivy has taken root
around your eyes

"Redemption's Pyre is Fueled by the Slow-Burn of Midnight Oil"

every block that I stumble by
drips pooling
orange streetlight onto the sidewalk
which wetted feet find liquor slick
and thus put nose to grindstone, idiom or no
I hear the quiet Fury
when you fall down far enough
when your ears are planted to the earth
addressing me curtly
burning up through the asphalt
stretching and ripping beneath my fingers
she lifts me screaming from the gutters

"To Hell With Forgiveness"

I find none other than Passion
standing under a spotlight
on the next street corner
always dreamed of becoming a star 
 you burned out far below the heavens of the hollywood highrise
she beckons me over with knowing gestures
and still wound up center stage

“I Am Cheap and Love is Dead
Buried With All The Other Fairy Tales”
to which I respond
“We Must Make Due.”

she came and left swiftly,
departing with the last of the warmth
in this empty room
her candles doused in gasoline
burn half as long but twice as bright
after which I rose and went to my window
and listened to the chirps of Melancholy
singing of sin.