ghost money.

80's resurrected like christ at a used car salesman's convention
Tearing the wings off of speckled flies with tobbaco stained teeth
Yield to the east
Yield to the west
Then turn
A false feeling of security while getting sexually molested
By a cheap clown in the parking lot
On the way to my car
Minivan with two kids
And a wife expecting
Pulled flower from the palm of my hand
Broke at the root and bled
Shatters like glass
Sounds like summer 08'
Breaking in my shoes
While breaking someone's jaw
Heard the speakers blow out
Before the band even started
Yelling and screaming
What the hell happened
Post conversion.

Raccoon girl.

Like an illustration in a fantasy story
Sought that castle in the clouds
With it's porcelin prisms & unending arches
Walk the walkway like a galliant figure of glory
A knight returning from a victorious quest
Rescued the damsel - slayed the dragon
Worn armor and bloodied hands
Blackened eyes and weakening smile
It's not this path that enlightens me
Makes me certain that truth in honor prevails
But the murky middle of my past
Chanced upon a lone traveler
Profiteering his own carnival
Magic mirrors and premonitions
Of the future: love & death
His mock mustache and towering hat
Dispelling misgivings with the wave of a wand
Spoke in promises; not honesty
And one look on
Saw the day I'd die
The trials I faced
Chasing raccoon girl down the unplaced path
Leaving a trail of blood behind me
Heard the laughter in the smoke
Annoyomous and vicious
Rushed in a haze
Violent fever
That left me faint
Even as I reached the throne
Where I knelt for the king
As he gently tapped my shoulder with honor
I grabbed the blade - bare hands -
And cut my head off.

The spectrum of dreams.

Flashlight on the glass
Until you couldn't guess no more
Bite your nails & cross your arms
Fell back on the curtains
Took your fall
Left the chaos in leaving
And went back to carry on
Victim of your own conviction
Solving a mystery that's a secret to keep
Whisper the answer to an audience in tears
Boos that were rehearsed
A tragedy in the making
For months and years
You've perfected your incorrectness
Unabashed from the snarling teeth
Put a rose on your performance
And spit on the ground
As you bow
Swept away by a janitor's push.

Lost films.

No more patients
Just empty glasses
Cold sterile whites
And faceless strangers
All against the wall
Seething as you walk by
No different than before
A common stride
Let's a breath go
A ghost in the cold
Tell tale sign
There's never letting go
Bit my lip
Till the last bled spit
Trying to go to bed
Never mention this again
Confusing as the letters
I wrote to myself
Dear, Self
How do I really feel?
P.S. you need help.