my own ghost wont leave me be
my own ghost wont leave me be
it haunts of times before, when thoughts were clearer,
I carry it in marathons of endless footsteps
as it wraps its ectoplasmic hands about me, whispering bile into my ears,
with a would of, should of, could of narrative
all my obvious failings read from a long page with a chortled voice,
I cart my alter-ego in a ceaseless piggy-back ride
poking holes in the shades of my resolve; it laughs at all my imprudent choices,
what part of me are you?
I know your face but your temperament, not,
do you hide in the looking glass as I glide past from room to room
are you a surreal being from a different realm, just walking on the spot,
are you a product of a flawed and endlessly twitching imagination
is there any substance to any of these things that plague my mind,
you can’t be terminated with pills or a professional word
the lengths I’ve traversed in an attempt to try and try,
in the end I choose to smile and to acknowledge
that maybe, just maybe you’re the real thing,
you whisper another parable and song for the malaise of man
and turn my thoughts to a different cap to doff and pledge,
and as I sit alone in the pitch black of this bright sunny day
in my minds distance I can hear your thunderous laughter ring out,
your jobs done here and its time to move on
you’ve sewn the seeds and your madness does sprout
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