Ghosts in the photographs

Not sure if this one is not more than a vampire dream in the telling...

I have taken these dreams like a bubble, like a fire, like the walking away I have moved into, and moved away from. I posted it a fair-well letter on that beach of long ago, saw ghosts in the photographs I took of it, got the healing and thought I was cured, now I take some another remedy long into it all of a night so dark. For the love of god take this away from me. But what god is there for the likes of me?

I search the streets to find what I seek, yet become blind with the looking. The dark is too close. Will I see you again? Is there comfort in this life for me? Can I find my way out of here? So many questions. So much thirst for something to quench me, to fill me, to fulfil me.

I go soon in search of another comfort. I will wear the darkness and tear the heart out in the night of it all as I walk the streets. “Can you save me?” I will ask, as I take their blood.

Motor bikes n rush. Hidden houses of what do you really want? Now it comes to this, I rip the night to bits and paint it how I feel, see, the pain of those that come from the midnight hour after their joy...there is too much pain here for you, why do you come here? So, I am lost in all the mirrors they show me. Where are you my friend, I need you now, more than I have ever needed you. I can feel myself digging in to here without a care; so, I will walk out into it all and die some more there where I can't be found.

But my friend is a whore that hops from car to car on that road I abandoned long ago and burnt in a fire, some memory, a place I can never go back to. While the painted dust is no more than can be begged for in the lost place without you.

So, to wander around and spend it all on the coloured faces that invade my dreams with my blood-lust so high and wanting.

Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

Then tumble from wall to wall in the soulless whispers of a doom so deep, in some dark place, where all walls are the same, a stumbling place to somewhere else. To be viewed as a stranger then, in a strange telling?

The shared images that spelled life, given in the hunger of our joining that I remember too well. The night can be so dark. But in the day the light sends me to hide, with the murmurings of lost in the years that pass so slowly without you.

Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

As the wind blows it all away, to travel on to somewhere, always somewhere else, hoping my calling gets to you. Hoping the well opens for you of our shared hunger. Dogs bark n roar their doings, and to cope with that, walk on by. Dreams, so many dreams, but what is real?

To be hungry for so much. There is a place to know; it is not in dreams so dark. Where more now to look?

And from the shadows, always some blood-lip lust sniggering over some useless death.

Can I ever forget who I am? I forget so much. If only I could find you again. What did you know of this? If you know then be a friend, come ease this hurt, this pain, if you would be a friend. I see you in my heart. Is this the way, to be so full of sadness yet with a vestige of hope and to carry on regardless? Too many questions come yet the offering is there to come back to me. Can I understand it? To comprehend such; to stand naked and be clothed with your memory that fades; can I surrender that much?

Image by Reinhardi from Pixabay

A full moon, star bright sky entices a yearning, in a stillness so deep, seen through a window, just for me. It is too clear in my awareness that you are not here. I see the brightness that cuts through it all, and stand perfectly under it. I am a cry, a wish that is sent. I cannot call you more. What must I do? My body full of hunger, my heart too dry, too alone yet offer all that I am. Do I know of abundance? Do I know of the abundant creator of it all? I have given all I can, no fear left.

Abundance is a birth right, but it seems so is lack: that wanting to be fulfilled. But not for me. I must wander alone.

Always hungry.

Image by DarkWorkX from Pixabay

I have paid the echoes many times over, those ghosts in the scheme. Yet I owe nothing to that, though the penetration is deep. I am deeper. My spirit is fire, and need, and the endurance to survive in the face of all fate. And nothing can kill me. For I am the deep of all hunger no darkness can spend. I am the ‘here’ of the now in the deepest nightmare. The inside of all that is denied in the dismal deep of despair. I am closer than the darkness. When I take the blood from your eyes, surrender, for there is no mercy.

But like the cracks on the wall of doom that move towards dust it is late now for me to find my only mate, my friend I have missed for too long.

There is some kind of moon up there full of all the things that make it blue. And a wind blows some kind of something that can never say all that I am.

Can you hear the crickets fill the dark filled night with their calling? Or the stillness of the stars in their shining? Or the music that plays for no one as the curtains sway in a lonely breeze. This is a night’s desert, a sway of dust swirling in colours of hearts yearning. I reach for more as a huge moon opens its door to me...

Image by DarkWorkX from Pixabay

Images from Pixabay