Maybe, I Am.

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  No Houses
Whats in your head?

Submitted: January 29, 2020

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Submitted: January 29, 2020

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Maybe,

I am the landlord of a haunted house,

at the very least a tenant,

astonished by the neighborhood government.

 

Maybe,

I am the doctor of rebellion against theatrical housekeepers,

illuminating the slow handed surgical approach,

of all that must be done.

 

Maybe,

I am just one.

 

Maybe,

not.

 

Maybe,

I am intelligent and high minded.

 

Maybe, 

silver horns bend around this back with night dew,

as I hoof stomp and stamp,

amongst the tranquility,

away from my mysterious dissapeance.

 

Maybe,

something has to change.

 

Maybe, 

blankets stretch out across the sand,

while glooming grateful and comforting phantoms,

dance in the fire light of these misadventurous incantations.

 

Maybe,

I lurch and weaponize with wordy perils of hilarity upon the ears,

of merriment stricken hunstman searching for a tale told, 

of how battles were won, as the wolf became thwarted,

hunted down.

 

Maybe,

there is a complete shadow looming,

over a body layed upon the ground,

betrayed and unapproached upon.

 

Maybe,

its of no consequence at all,

that I know exactly what I am trying to say,

and could explain it much better in person,

having the pleasure of your company,

to stand before you,

like a bright idea.

 

Maybe,

I am dead,

this a last spark in my imagination,

that time cannot explain,

nor you.

 

Maybe,

this is just a way to get over,

underated speculation bearing down,

slammed across the room,

of my own haunted house.

 


© Copyright 2020 Dr. Acula. All rights reserved.

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