Intuition is a ghost’s desire,
a heart’s hair from breathing.
There is a fracture for a mouth
in our glory,
but we never recognize it.
We are monsters,
and doubt caresses the monster.
We are numb with money,
and our tears are swollen by sweet
epiphanies.
Nothing satisfies our rage.
Night, covered in cloth, spreads moonlight
over the sea.
But the bankers are thieves
in our den, removing furniture and lightbulbs
from our homes.
We only recognize the theft when it
parts from us.
Transcendent Zero Press 
very nice piece, Dustin. I agree that we only recognize thievery when it personally affects us. We often turn a blind eye to cruelty and social injustice unless when it happens to us.
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The desire of ghosts are capricious,
growing in our peripheral vision, soft as moss and silent
Depending on each apparition’s suspicions
(whether once its emotions primal reason or manipulation
loyalty / treachery love or ambition )
Mesmerizied by the spectors inattention
using fear as ammunition aroused by recognition of intention ,
ghosts will freeze and glide leaving snapshots or slides inside your mind
Ghost robbed were you of sacred places? It is what is in the heart
which ghosts despise.
We remembered once that which we loved the most
Ghosts replace the good with ghastly jokes
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One great image after another. Inspiring.
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Thanks!
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