i wish i could die,
and no, i promise i wont try...
at least not for now, not tonight...

but sometimes
i wish i could just die,
or fall asleep and never open my eyes...

buried in my head, deep in my minds eye
is the hope that barely keeps me alive...
but oh, how i still wish i could die...

just dont fret, no, please dont cry,
trust me when i say "i promise I won't die,"
i promise ill be fine, at least just for tonight...

but still, i wish that i could die,
but i promise i wont try
at least not now, at least not tonight...

at least tonight
I'll try to stay alive...

In an old small town at the top of a winding road there sits a small cottage house with boarded windows and a door that looks as though it has been kicked in multiple times. Passersby would assume the house had been abandoned many moons ago, but local townsfolk know that the house is home to the witch.
Though everyone knew the witch wasn’t scary, her house appeared to be haunted, and every fall the school kids would dare each other to survive what they called “the witches tour”. Some kids would come out crying, others laughing. One day, the witch heard a knocking at her door. A little girl, no older than six or seven stood at her door. “Here for a scare, come on in” the witch said while gesturing for the girl to come inside. The little girl entered the witch's home. The witch didn’t know why, but her palms became sweaty and she could feel tightness starting in her chest.
“I’ll start you off easy” the witch told the girl. “I’m not afraid of anything”. The girl responded back. The witch led the girl up the creaky stairs. When they reached the top of the stairs, bats began to fly overhead. The girl didn’t flinch, they kept walking down the cobwebbed hallway. The witch led the girl into her bedroom and told her to open the closet. The girl did as she was told, and opened the closet. Old skeletons started to fall, piling at her feet.
“I’m still not scared”, said the girl to the witch.
“You’re brave, I’ll give you that” said the witch as they walked out of the bedroom back down the hall into the bathroom.  Inside the bathroom, the girl could see the boa wrapped around the toilet, trying to free its long body from the pipes. Again the girl remained calm, not showing any signs of fear. This made the witch frustrated that nothing seemed to scare this child. The witch rushed down the stairs, her boots clacking on the wooden floor. She flung herself into her rocking chair next to the fire. The girl followed the witch downstairs, and sat on a stool in front of the witch. The witch had an idea, and pulled out her big book of fears. The witch began to show pictures of phobias to the girl. The girl looked at them with interest and entertainment. The witch, again frustrated, slammed the book shut, and film of dust floated in the air.
“You have to be afraid of something, everyone is afraid of something” the witch told the girl with exasperation.
“What are you afraid of”? asked the girl. The witch rocked back and forth in her chair. No one had ever asked her that before. “Ghosts”, the witch said with a tremble in her voice, “they always come back to haunt you” whispered the witch.
“Are you afraid of me”? asked the girl.
“Why would I be afraid of a child”? asked the witch, but then she looked closer at the girl and the ache in her chest began to grow tighter and she could feel the sweat form on her palms. “How did you find me”? asked the witch.
“I’ve been looking for you, I need to tell you something” said the girl.
The witch sat frozen in her chair, paralyzed by her greatest fear. The little girl climbed up on the witch's lap, grabbed her face in her small soft hands, and looked the witch in the eyes. “I’m proud of you and I love you” the girl told the witch before she nestled her head into the crook of the witch's neck.
Instinctively, the witch wrapped her arms around the little girl as she began to cry. The witch cried for so long that the little girl fell asleep in her arms. The witch rocked her until she fell asleep too.

In the morning, they woke up and the little girl told her it was time for her to go. The witch begged her to stay. The little girl told her she would always be with her, and to look in the mirror if she ever needed her.
The witch hugged the little girl goodbye and watched her skip down the long, winding road until she was out of sight.
In a small town at the top of a long, winding road, sits a beautiful cottage house with a tall oak tree, and a tire swing where the school kids play. In the house lives the witch, who maybe, never really was a witch after all.

Curtains blow
through tight closed panes
not a breath of wind
but the shape remains
no breeze has settled on my windowsill
outside the sleeping world is still
and yet those curtains wander where they will
I turn my back on flowered fingers
and try to sleep
but the feeling lingers

I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus
With tigery stripes, and a face on it
Round as the moon, to stare up.
I want to be looking at them when they come
-Sylvia Plath


because you're often here:
my head is booked with you,

heart wrapped in your worm;
even my feet walk where I do not want to go

thanks to old paths you laid to bone,
invisible, revived by instinct.

Don't get big headed about it -
you know my memory, I recall

every figurine caught in the web.
Many have no names now

& some of the rest are only names.
But unlike most, you're wont to escape

this night scribble brain garden,
percolating into a shapely world.

From time to time I wonder where they go,
all those strange and lovely yous

that leak in photo negative
from my mind's eye with dusky limbs

& that unforgettable voice,
paroled and incessant...

If you are ever out strolling
by your canal where the waters are so still

& so black that the drunks swerve away
& the sodium vapor eyes recoil,

& you hear following steps and look back
& there you are...
                               walk faster.

I see you
Laird of Tanera Mòr
shaded scotsman
misty on the dock
I hear your skirling pipes
threading salted air
silent sound which cuts
and tops each bouncing wave
music on the bridge
between the living and the grave

Halloween is here again
I used to love it so
But, now when it's shell out time
My face I do not show

I hide down in the basement
No light will people see
"No Candy Here" upon the door
There's nothing here from me

Ghosts and Ghouls and Spirits
Up my street they creep
But, I see them nightly
When I try to sleep

Four faces of four children
Out to trick or treat
Run down by a drunk driver
While trick or treating on my street

Seven children run down
Time....eight seventeen
Three were injured, four were killed
On that horrific Halloween

Each day for me is Halloween
Each day I hear them screaming
The worst part is that I'm awake
I don't hear them when I'm dreaming

Two who died, I knew them well
Dressed as cowboys on that night
Now they're gone, to ride the range
Their souls have taken flight

The street was closed for near two days
There were many questions asked
And in the end, nothing has changed
The answers hidden by a mask

The driver, he was plastered,
Didn't know what day it was
He's out now, paid his penance
I hope he feels a sense of loss

Myself, I cannot bear it
Every year I stay inside
I see those faces on new children
So, in my basement I will hide

No Candy Here, I'm sad to say
It hurts as much today
I still grieve for those poor children
In my own, respectful way

welcome to the horror show
where webs from spiders
stream and flow,
where witches fly upon their brooms,
offering poisoned apple brew
where monsters play
where shadows dance
where screams are songs of violence
masks go up, horns and crowns
running running, away, around
sew your ears and pluck your eyes
this is the only way to stop your own demise

October arrives baring autumn chills,
Warm tones splatter the streets as nature sheds its many colors,
Mystery lingers in every street corner,
A spooky season reigns yet again.