The world spins around my face,

Out of the corner of my eye,

Is something out of place,

Mouth open in a silent cry.

Shake my head as spots appear,

Out of the corner shadows arrive,

I spin around shaking with fear,

But they follow me, they're alive!

Movement of nothing haunts my vision,

Pulling me away from this world,

Time for a big decision,

On a trigger my fingers curled.

Sparks fly and I squeeze,

The shadows dance to congratulate,

My hair ruffles in the breeze,

I am approaching a gate.

Falling, falling, falling,

With shadows and colors,

Help me, I'm calling,

Stuck in the covers.

A whispered rumor circulates our town

That once there lived a stranger in this wood

Drove to madness, some say he would drown

Any soul that found him--dark or good

My pace is brisk along this creekbed path

I've fear of my own shadow 'cross the trees

I do not wish to meet the phantom's wrath

I cry out into nothing--fruitless pleas

My running feet are twisted into branches

I fall into the creek and crack my head

On the rocks, and my complexion blanches

When I realize that I'll soon be dead

I swear I see the cloaked man stand above

Though in my heart I know I am alone

There was no phantom there to give the shove

The madness that destroyed me was my own

A lonely spirit drifts

Through the empty estate,

Her memory lost to blurred rifts;

An all but blank slate.

People come and they go,

But for what,

She doesn't know.

Doors open and shut

As she drifts past

These lively strangers.

Their faces aghast,

They cry, "DANGER!!"

They flee from a perceived invisible threat,

Leaving her no answer to her inquiry.

Fingerprints in the dust set -

A wordless diary

As the estate is left to rot.

She wanders alone,

Not spared a single thought,

Left forever to the Unknown.

I have often been called estranged,

but the ability to shift and move any one object,

has given rise to be called psychically deranged,

still, allows me to study and reflect.

Make a quarter, penny or dime,

shift from tails to head,

and do so in hardly any time,

leaves many who witness as if their rational thought had fled.

Even in this age of day,

where science is a true form of knowledge,

fear still grips the eyes that may,

look upon this given act as purely parlor sledge.

So do I do the unthinkable move,

one that makes believers of you all?

Find that special place in your groove,

and move you, until you fall.

Magic is considered abnormal

The idea people could fly or read minds

Just never seemed formal

We have never gone to other worlds and the fault is mankinds'

There's always a scent

Hanging in the fog

Draws the sinners to repent

But they never live long

Sickness to this madness

Dare to move again

Sight your missed happiness

Your life must be well spent

Come to this lingering

Lane of fear

Come, the devils are singing

Alive, you'll never leave here

RAG SHAG PARADISE

there we where

me and my girl

Vavavavoom

speeding on a curving dark road

she

silky luscious

falling all over me

like a chinchilla fur

it was a menacing and stormy night

we pulled up

to the dimly neon lighted

Rag Shag Paradise Motel

and adjacent diner

the Creepy Pasta Restaurant

that looked like a blinking furnace

where reality doesn't care what happens

and hemorrhages chaos

like a flushing toilet

at the end of the line

nly exists for a few minutes

planted to create an illusion

to nourish self deception

a crime without a criminal

a continuity of the nothing

yet in it

an inevitable unfolding of consequences

like a scream scattered throughout the cosmos

a good place to curl up for the night

a point of departure on a lumpy rolling bed

as we vanished beneath the sheets