Ghost

Thickets race past, branches graze,

I run from he who betrays.

Wordless, he grins through stunted teeth,

Chasing me through the wooded heath.

Blood trickles from my open scrapes,

Heart pounding,

Ghost hounding,

And clots around my brain he drapes.

Lungs deflating, out of steam,

Sweat thicker than clotted cream,

The spirit, he’s closer, at heels;

Legs, useless as paper square wheels.

I’m enraptured by opaque arms,

Face a-glowing,

Veins showing,

As blood is leaked from holy palms

Now I’m trapped, in full embrace,

Soon to vanish without trace.

The ghost implores me to convey,

The very truth that I hurray,

But not for much longer, no.

Soul fading,

Mind jading,

Melting in heat as early snow.

© menshallknownothingofthis.co.uk 31.03.2009