Ghosts

Mindless. Unsure what voice will arise from the dark, eternal self. Enraptured by the vision that stole my sanity. Fumbling around on my knees for grace. If only I had thought to sleep. Fool! The briefest terrifying glimpse into hell. My secret world displayed. How many prescriptions has it been? It wasn't beside a lake at all, you know? Movie clips in my head. I closed my eyes, but sleep would not come. Lyrical warnings and old premonitions exorcised with this new dosage. Rain again some other day, I say with a shrug. Bleeding this hiding artist. Milking him dry. Hide and seek myself back to this inky oblivion. Novelist? Wandering prophet wrestled to the floor and stapled to the carpet. Praying still to stay the storm whistling from that rabbit's hole. Keep up. Keep smiling. Chase whatever dream you will, but run damn you! Time is running out...