The Ghost

Sunday, July 30, 2017
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He knocks on your door
With a hatchet in his hand
Good news from underground
Bursting from his mouth
He has no flesh; only bones
And a torn trenchcoat

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You open and see a talking skull
Bones for fingers and long cracked nails
Eyes blazing
A smell of rotten offal
Greets your nose
You stand there dazed

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“Can I come in?” he asks
Before you say ‘no’ he's in your sofa
Sipping blood-flavoured Coke
Eating meat-baked bread; human meat
You scream your lungs out
Awakening others like him

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They enter your crib from the cemetery
And perform a voodoo dance
You are utterly shocked
You gasp for air
Then one says,
“We don't have lungs just as you!”

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You touch your chest
And knock
Your bony fingers
On your dry ribs
You realise you're a skeleton!
So sad you scream again
“Shut up! Nobody can hear you!”
Says the one
With a rotten tongue
Worms crisscrossing the tongue

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You run to the mirror
And look at yourself
You are a skeleton for real
Then you realise you died
Six months, six days and six hours ago
That's why you still smell the rot
Are you Zombie or Ghost????

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Composed in 2016

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