*

I remember scenes that seemed so clever
(but really just picturesque)
And I swore with oaths
Stamped "I will never..."
But straight jackets are made of "unless"

'O to be free
From what we've grown into,
The mind bogged down by its own attire
All anti-vivid creations have become me,
This is is despair, not desire!

A ghost is sheathed
In invisible elements we breath
A ghost is only romantic
When we believe

There I am
Wandering though not lost
Not diluted
Only the nature
Of what a ghost must be;
Check your eyes vague friends, it's me.