Me, My Dog, and A Ghost

 

Sometimes when you're in a bad place

life becomes a better Hell, you may pick

up your cross and carry it to a mountaintop,

but you'll never pick up your headstone from

your grave. Death’s patient as the sunlight, no 

chains can hold back the rushing of time. Where

insults breach propriety and inflamed barbs may

constitute threats, you laugh at the circus within. 

Wobbled restraint. My heightened shadows crest 

upon the beaten past and the sunlight