Smoke leaving my lungs
is an excellent simile
expressing what this journey has become.
Benighted by forked tongues;
the whispers of the world mismatch
the ****** expressions I catch.
Trying to ****** a batch of moments
worthy of gloating to my opponents.
Enticing movement in their bowls
as their smiles turn to scowls.
Exhaling the growls of satisfaction
from a triple black hood.
Their actions run afoul of the good
in my soul, truth be told.
My mind is too cold.
My heart is too bold.
My being can't be controlled
by nonfactual statements.
I am standing adjacent to greatness
with no patience for the aimless.
My genius is hungry and their life is the waitress.
So gracious I'm weightless
with words  that are heinous, outrageous and shameless.
Yes, I'm saying it. I said it and I'll say it again.
I am the paper, the ink, the words and the pen.
You can't best this style unless your right within.
I'm alright whether I'm left in
My, your or their skin.
Lurking through dreams as if they were my possessions.
Haunting poetry globally with a potency that leaves
minds convulsing and hearts slain.
Be forewarned; The Ghost has returned again.