it is cold again
drizzling as he enters his building
clutching the 2 bags of groceries
the 3 year old stares from the upstairs
apartment window
wondering why the old man doesn't
play with him anymore
he re-heats and finishes off the coffee
from last night
throws a tv dinner in the microwave
and watches highlights of the games on youtube
since they dropped the local sports from Sling
he checks his bank balance again online
listens to his favorite ghost stories podcast
then wonders why he hasn't planned for
his burial
or cremation
cheaper to dump my ashes in the Atlantic
he decides
he ponders many things but mainly what the future holds for his kids
he does this almost every night
can't understand why they took the vaccine against his pleas...
to get along? Make things easier? Have that card for the cruises?
1 A.M. and a few hits to help him sleep
a final ****
but will hold off the flush until morning
so as to not wake the older woman upstairs
the ghosts are getting closer these days
they scare the **** out of the neighbor's cat
when he comes to visit
he's off the spirit box since October
when they scared the **** out of him
when he saw one go by and call his name
they know it's coming soon
he just wishes they'd let him leave quietly

berry stained grins,
gentle beings.
dialogue so fluffy
we float right through.

through the walls,
past our flesh.
comfortably distant from
picking at sticky bones.
we make the rules here.

milky whites,
and god those muddy doorways.
whiskey bottles softly napping
upon the river's clay.
summer music cracks through,
glowing like starlight.
were you always this beautiful?

our halloween house,
bigger than enough for two.
even the heaviest of winters
swallowed like salt and cream.

who knew it'd be this easy?
i don't miss eating fingernails.
you are all i have,
and you are all i need.

The ghost of you won't follow me,
Though I try to lure you out.
Never do you fall for my tricks,
I never did doubt
Your capabilities and your wit
I know you float, magical broom
stick your finger in the air.
You'd hitchhike the galaxy
I know you'd dare.

two giant heads that flank the gate
of Charnel House since ancient date
sit pocked and scared in ruined state
and bare the names of Death and Hate

within Death's skull, are nested crows
upon Hate's lips, a gray moss grows
and Death is carved in screaming pose
while from Hate's eyes, a black stain flows

the wrought iron words arched overhead
say this is where you bring your dead
so veil your face and bow your head
as they are lowered to their bed

a filmy ghost descends the stair
with sunken eyes, no nose, no hair
he holds his ghastly evil stare
to frighten souls who wander there

yet, one day, the dead shall rise
and wipe the tears from hopeful eyes
but, Hate has suffered his demise
for this is where all anger dies