a misty episode

i read book that's writing me 

a novel autobiography 

recorded in my bones 

nestled in my mind 

faded o'er the passing years 

arisen through a quickened dream

it lit like fire burning in the night 

my limbs and soul aflame 

like some ancient prima dona 

desirous to be thunk again 

her arms a watery flab 

her toes weakened by weight

the text fell softly 

like shavings from a sharpened lead 

preparing to jot another chapter 

onto the pages of my awakening mind

the story held briefly 

images bunching in a continuous stream 

that upon my arousal 

floated into ghosts exiting Halloween 

twas a misty episode 

playing out some phases of my life 

authored by my deeds undone 

and deeds seeking repeat

ghostly phrases now write themselves 

as images to be read some future night

*Evil cannot be destroyed; it can only be redeemed.

-Anon

*To kill evil one must kill the significance.

-Anon

*Every happiness is the child of a separation it did not think it could survive.

-Rainer Maria Rilke