I Catch The Specter Of Death

from the corner of my eye
and greet him with a small-town wave
he laughs
and
returns the gesture
with a flesh--rotted hand
he longs to befriend the living
but
suffers the inconvenience of his trade
i remove my face for the day
and place it on a cracked mantle
of charred invocations
bonded with the sinewy tendons
of youthful ideals
i sleep
in a bed of brine
that stings my unhealed wounds
& dream of lost better days
better lost memories
i tender my soul
to my fire
as the flames
singe images i care
not to know
with mind on the moonlight
that releases me
cavernous echoes fill my head
and fall away from the fabric
of my reality
an invitation to the danse of mad music
for the eager  performer
RSVP
of course
so it is
that I will cast my ire against the dirty gray horizon
if only to eliminate any pretense of normality
free-floating about the empty eyes of perception
and judgment
your world is not
for the released
i declare my freedom...