Ghosts of bad solutions
sparkle thin on background
flowers

they vaporize the entire
ambient

just like a cleaning agent
would wipe the scene clean

it's not the thought
that justifies the reaction

but it's the wrong doing
that divides us
in myriads of
reflecting hatred

I, for one, wouldn't mind
blowing up the car at full speed of the next dangerous motherf***er
that cuts me off on the highway

Ghosts of poor reasoning
shine soft on wallpaper
horizons
they caress the weakened minds
of sapients
just like a fluffer
would aid the scripted hardon

it's not an idea
that markets a rainbow
of illusions

but it's the right choice
that separates the holy from the profane
in a faithfull war
of interests

I, for one, wouldn't mind
in clipping all the wings
of changes so to preserve
whatever feels familiar
and everything which is known

Ghosts of...

Ghosts of midnight hours
spent up here figuring out
if dope+booze induced verses

really could mean something to the sober among us

wish me luck.