Ghost mind, ghost mind,
wake up with a white spot of time.
Hours you walked the corridors,
colorless and blind.
Towel hung on the lampshade,
a Halloween design.
You’ve got a waxy wallet,
but your keys you’ll have to find.
The bleached sheets act all innocent,
wrinkled by design,
floating off a memory:
clear liquor and moonshine.
Ghost mind, ghost mind
wake up to the baby cryin’.
Alabaster from your fears
and shrieks left undefined.
Where were you last night
when your thoughts became outlines?
The morning’s hollow honeycombs
are pale venetian blinds.
Curl against me chalky,
scared, and sand-blind.
Speak to me (through frosted lips)
of last night’s hauntings
and your shadowy ghost mind.
© 2022 | K.Hartless
Artwork: Woodblock print, Hyaku Monogatari, One Hundred Ghost Stories,1830
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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