His penmanship is masterful and his forgeries immaculate. |
Ghost Writer Artic winds sweep through my chambers Chilling flesh into the bone Past midnight a glacial touch stirs A muddled mind from dreamland zone There before my blinking vision Floating free above the floor Torso draped in ragged ruin A fleshless specter skeleton raw Glowing blue in luminescence Cold eyes that burn into my soul Fluid form of pale transparence Whispers hiss from faceless skull Bone-white fingers scrape the bed-post Shivers quiver up my spine Icy vicegrip clamps an ear-lobe Snap-lock freezing thoughts in mind Primal screams are strangled mid-stream Heartbeats boom inside my head Needle pinch straining sanity's seams Tears me loose from satin sheathed bed Dragged headfirst across the floorboards As phantom fingers twist and tighten The piercing pain propels me forward With a force I've no will fighting Tossed like trash into the corner Foetally curled I cower trembling And watch it hover above the chair - Long lean hand snatch up a pencil Condensation bubbles like beaded sweat Rolling down that ghostly brow Concentration gleams in blue eyes set Along grey lines the lead point plows Once more I feel that glacial grip This time around my throat As I'm hauled up onto toe-tip Forced to read my suicide note Flung through the shattering glass Of the second story window Cut to shreds I stain the grass A bloody thudding body blow Ruptured spleen and punctured lung Some sort of miracle that I survived The final bell was struck and rung From death's door I was revived But the cold is seeping in again Shadows creeping up the walls They've locked me up in the asylum With the Ghost Writer in my ward... ---o0o--- |