The Farm and The Ghost

1

The sun sets in the stomach of the night,
the air was thick that day, so very thick,
I wandered off, I had finally done it,
I was out of jail.
I’m somewhere in South Carolina now.
My mind is tortured, but in that moment, 
it wasn’t, 
that day when I could finally again breathe the tulips, when I could sway with the lonely clouds and laugh with them too.
That day, when the dirt of the semi trucks fascinated me, where it originated from, where it was in the time continuum, where I was in the time continuum, all the brief details which I once had missed, all the slight colors of invisible parades
all of it now sung silent melodies, all of it now whispered warm emotions through my diminishing soul.
I promised myself that I’d never again let my soul be beaten, that I’d dance with the green valleys and write, yes, finally I’d write my great American novel.
I promised as the butterflies shed a tear,
as the homemade liquor strangled a thought or two,
as the dark skinned goddess pranced on the atmosphere,
as the dead bats of the desert rose and chanted the writings of Nietzsche,
I promised myself.

2

Today I woke up to the sound of rain, the farm outside was black, I walked downstairs and made sure all the animals were inside.
I came back in and tracked chunks of mud on the tile floor, one piece specifically looked like a monster, I looked at my reflection and saw the same figure.
I poured some coffee and sat on the couch, it had been years, years of wasted camera film, I hadn’t travelled, I hadn’t met a woman, I guess my options were limited, those prison walls followed me everywhere I went.
What does it matter now that I’m 80, now that days go by without a familiar face, now that my life is discolored, now that the supermarkets dance on the graves of god, now that the music is muted of emotion, 
now that I am alone and dying.
What does it matter now?
I am already dead!
However they won’t take my death from me, it’s my disease and only I decide when I want to go and I already decided and it is done.
The present moment shivers in my own stillness and that space in time shines again, the quiet mind, the crying sun, there it is, I knew of you, I wanted you more than anything, these golden lights, these praying flowers.
“Come closer.” I move towards the staircase,
I’m here.

3

Two ghosts drain themselves of their own souls,
that day, that freedom, that silence, it was more than I can say.
To feel that promise of eternity, to bow to the hands of fate as you are crowned by the sun, not many experience this, not many ever live, this game of an existence, this dread of euphoria, who will transcend? Who will dissolve?
We all must decide.
The sun sets in the stomach of the night,
a grand wave overtakes cities,
blue beings slip through the boarders of humanity,
I rise, I rise and then....

nothing.