My Little Ghosts

Ghosts, vivid as any indelible memory,

Opaque characters complex as any pain.

Whispering phantoms of fancy and debate,

Debased to be displayed within me.

Fragments of former friends and foes

Haunting the pensive moments of my mind.

Frequently visiting my somber silences

To stimulate my passive passions.

Enticing my impulses to aggravation,

My bitter hates and petty joys,

And long past my solemn recompense

They goad me into fits of familiar disillusion.

The remembered and imagined coalesce

Into perfect torments for my indolence,

So whatever quiet moments I acquire

Inevitably fill with vexatious rants.

 

Leave me be, but never go too far,

As long as I need to fill these voids.

As much as I move on, you’re still my ghosts

And I need your stimulation to survive.

Maybe once I’ve passed along

From one sad form into the next,

I’ll fill the quiet with better voices

And forms that leave me better vexed.

Baby Brain

Reflections, and imaginary conversations

Close fitting clothes and coffee in a warm place

Daydreams unending, continuing over days

Alone in my head, talking to you.

Confessing my feelings, my thoughts and desires

Living out my fantasies and my fears

Opening up to you and to myself

Without even needing you to be here.

So vivid sometimes I can’t sleep,

So potent sometimes I can’t think,

When it’s you and me and no one else

And it’s really only just me.

It’s a need and an addiction

A substitute for intimacy

A safe-space for my emotions

Where only I could really hurt me.

My sensitivities are brought to surface

My fragile ego realizes it’s pains

My weaknesses and repressions, illuminate

And I see through my baby-brain.

It’s me and you at you-know-where

We’re playing freely without care

We’re pretending, so we can feel

Like Disney-land is really real.