tuesday 2 galloped off without me

Instead of surfing or scrolling, journal while you wait to have a cavity filled or for your stepson to file out of the locker room. Don't think too hard about what you want to write; just put words on the page. Find a point of departure in your surroundings (the shadow of a tree branch, a whiff of burning wood) and follow the stream of consciousness to its conclusion.

It's been a long time since I said it out loud, so I can't remember if I told you. Light shines through me and I don't feel the rain. Things that go bump in the night? I am one. I can squeeze a scream out of any body. "What IS that thing?!" Shifting shimmer, ghoulie glimmer. Can't pin down what you can't catch. Touch. Look beyond the outline, the person-shape show, what is found there? (I can't tell you. Either you don't, or you know.) 

LISTEN hear a howling see me scowling and you think I'm hear to haunt you when I offer you a piece, just a morsel, just a crumb of what brought me to the brink – I'm the one who's haunted, can't unsee what I have seen, can't erase the knowledge that to believe is to perceive. And don't you find it frightening if you ever stop to think that if we built it, we can break it, we can all rewrite the scene: won't sell our labor if you treat us like we're cogs in the machine.

OKAY so it's cliche, rhymes are crimes, but here's the thing– when you're haunted + you know it, you'll try anything to reach the ears + move the feels of everyone you meet. so remember: dusky shadows, muffled moaning, that door too slowly creaks open on its accord were all messages from me–soft reminders to lose yr blinders and remember what you see is just a fraction of a world trapped by rigidity. But if you want it bad enough, it doesn't have to be.  Imagine you're beyond all this, that you finally get free to do just what you want to do and be a ghost like me!