restless ghosts have stopped haunting me

the possible escort that begins torture
and equally tortured wanderings of the imagination
there is no future in this future
world I see is an open hallucination

the empty ghost world and phantom poltergeist
and equally I wander tortured as a ghost feels
cold and breathing hibernating dreaming sleeping fish
the under water existance you live in horror reels

I have marched empty handed
I have wrapped the cold dead babies
What is it to be stranded?
What is it to be with faeries?

Sometimes when the moon is high
the birds will fly in two rows by
nobody hinted the stairs or my
own fall from hell to heaven stars fly...