There's a ghost in my house.
Rattling handles on every door.

Throwing stones through the windows.
Sending shards to the floor.

The front door opens,
I'm escaping out the back.

The walls run red.
Striped in my ****** sins.

I cry... "Ghost... A ghost, in my house,
a haunted memory in sheets of white."

But I'm told, it's all in my head.
Given an oval pill to wash it away.

Lying in bed,
the moans and groans
start again.

I have a ghost in my house.
Not a figment of my imagination.

A ghost who rattles handles
into the dead of night.  

A ghost of white sheets
and fading memories.

A ghost
of my past offenses and greed.