Coming Home

We sat at a round table, eating dinner when he came in. I noticed him, but you paid no attention. For a second, I thought perhaps he was still alive.

There was no plate set out for him.

You sat down across the table and I sat, looking at you, then back at him. He sat at my right side. His hands were folded and he watched me eat.

You asked: "what do you keep looking at?" and made useless conversation.

I lowered my eyes and tried to ignore the ghost. My eyes burned with frustration and the food tasted like rubber. The conversation built, just like a pile of rubbish, upon my heavy soul until it drowned in the blood surrounding my heart.

"Do you not SEE him?" I interrupted you. You looked at the dead man and he looked back at you. You sighed.

"I do," you said. I threw my arms around his neck and held him. He felt so alive. "I missed you." And his voice, alive:

"I missed you, too."

The three of us sat at the couch, talking the night away. In the morning, he would be gone.

Then the alarm clock rang and the ghost slipped from my arms. I reset my alarm and pushed my mind back asleep, but a new dream came

and the ghost had burned himself into my mind.

A Natural Condition?

Forgive me for complaining.

Today, my soul is starved.

And I would ask forgiveness from my spirit,

Which begs my heart to feel

One real emotion.

It asks my hands to write

Something both delicate

And pure,

Not understanding just how worthless

Such expression is.

And yet I must comply

With my enfuriated heart,

Which beats more like a wardrum

Than an organ

And chides me for forgetting what it's for.

My fingers itch to hold a pen

Not for a proper use; for freedom's sake!

My lips burn with a need for sound,

Which might escape as melody, not words.

My eyes ache with the boring day-to-day

And dry up with the dust of passing hours,

Not having seen the beauty

Of inspiring light.

Forgive me for complaining,

But compacency

Is nauseating.

Maybe it's just today.

A Tiny Truth

When I asked for the reason...

as to why life led me astray

as to why things didn't turn out as expected

as to why my dreams failed...

I could never figure out out.

Until.

Life led me to the right place.

Things didn't turn out as expected.

And I found out that the things I always dreamed of...

... are right here, having waited for me all along.

(I guess I was never really lost)