give me gut wrenching honesty.
give me answers.
give me secrets.
give me the thoughts of every single
person that's ever walked the earth.
give me the things everyone knows.
give me what we all take for granted.
give me abundance.
give me knowledge.
give me confession.
give me vulnerability.
last night the wind at my window spoke to me in a voice like snowflakes or waves and said, "i will tell you of your future." and so it did. as Stars and Moon laughed or cried forever far above, forever far away, i listened to the wind and lay in darkness and shadow, heavy with sadness and hope, but finding no peace. it's always the same. our lives are merely moments to the wind, which does not mark our passing.
so i'll ghost through this ethereal world like a shadow through a cloud, like the sound of a bell in fog, and perhaps in my own imperfect way i'll be remembered as one who was kind and honest, who was not too proud to go into the emptiness beyond without grand words or great works, and as one who was known to a few as a friend.
and i thought i heard the wind smile as i finally drifted away to sleep, but perhaps it was only the rain finally come to wash me away.
ghost
scribbles, dark spirals from prime meridians on scraps of paper. hand gestures and secrecy, so many people in this world and i'm so lonely, the destruction of weakness within the pattern.
my tongue is metallic, and you, i can feel your pulse throbbing in my chest. i try all of this to get away from you, yet, here you are, omniscient as ever.
the colors that run away like melting candle wax as my eyes seek light, the numb feeling right before drunk, the lies i insist on telling myself, that's what my world is reduced to these days. such as...
i'm not angry.
but i do hate you.
ghost
these sweltering days go past far too fast.
night retreats as the sun comes up over the horizon through my window. i miss the stars. i miss rain. a fight of nature and universal desire, my heart is growing rusty, non-existent. i feel like someone's college notes.
dusty and forgotten. but none the less useful, despite what you might think.
ghost
excite my pen in rhythmic phrase
exploit my poetry of days
ghost
an email i received. "you say you want it, but do you know what love is?"
i wonder sometimes. but i think i do. at least, i know what i perceive as love. if you think about it, you know what love is too. in fact, even if you don't think about it, you know what love is. the latter is better, i think. just don't think about it. just realize what you desire in love. it is that unspoken hope which keeps each one of us going day by day. it is a light we take with us through the tunnel. it is here, right here, right now. it is an unqualified yes. consider it for a moment. before any of that troublesome grey matter can interfere, your heart jumps at the answer.
until i find it again, pride and defiance, those invisible bones that keeps your back straight under the weight you carry will have to suffice. because i know some of you are watching, and i refuse to let you down.
ghost
i want to dream again. i want to be able to let myself dream again. i want to dream again like i did before i became such a broken boy. i want hope in my life instead of this perpetual feeling that everything is going to be torn away from me again.
something has changed in me since amy left. for a long time i thought it was just the process of healing, that at some point i'd feel more like the me i remember being. i believe now that i never will. i'd like to say that this trial has made me stronger, but i don't know if i'm stronger or just hardened. this might be the only place i actually let people in. and here only because it's faceless and i don't have to look you in the eye.
i really want to have gained wisdom from this and not just scars that will never fade.
the damnable frustration of it is, i want love in my life, and yet i'm hesitant to pursue it, and skittish when the possibility of it presents itself. now, before you say, "hey, ghost, you're surrounded by love," let me just say, yes, my children love me. my family love me. i know they do. but it's not the same as having someone look at you with lover's eyes. i see my children growing and i know my efforts as a father are worth it. my family loves me because they have to. they're stuck with me. the rest of the time, i have a hard time justifying my existence.
i'm tired of feeling worthless.
ghost
my life is a collection
of postcards i never sent.
or i should say letters.
because i've been known to
commit that deeply to a moment.
they are are all marked to the care of
the me i wanted to be.
i just don't have the address.
it is not wrong to seek beauty. the circuits of our brain are tuned to the frequency of beauty. it is a part of us to seek it out and to love beauty simply because it is.
beauty, though, is sometimes hard to see. it is the treasure that lies in the field, the grass of which betrays nothing unusual. you cannot tell a hero from a coward just from the lines on his face, and you cannot measure someone's heart by looking into their eyes. we may get a feeling, but no other tangible evidence, and feelnings are prone to error. we are naturally suspicious of one another. things are sometimes not what they appear and we don't like being deceived. we want true beauty, not the cover up cream.
i'm not going to be the four millionth person to tell you that true beauty lies within. you've probably heard it so many times you can't tell it apart from the wax in your ears. what i am going to tell you is that true beauty is simple. for example, honesty is beautiful. simple truth. that would be the antithesis of that famous line, "oh what a tangled web we weave when we practice to deceive." lies are ugly. they complicate.
i think this is something i've learned. i find myself seeking simplicity in beauty. it doesn't matter if it's people or some piece of art. i look for the simplicity of the composition.
and i am finding that sometimes things are exactly as they seem. and that is beautiful.
ghost
considering the last two years. remembering how wounded i was this time two summers ago. it makes me ache to think of it, really.
there are places to go when you are broken by this life. you can disappear into a bottle. you can move on and seek out the mysteries of the next world. you can cower in a dream. you can crawl out from under and face the next day.
some turn to ghosts while still alive. some don't hang on long enough to see the sunshine again. some grit their teeth and endure it all.
me? i outlived Despair's killing blow.
ghost
