Vehemently

The ghosts insist, in the vilest
vehemence, that he lay down
his arms in obeisant fealty;

the spirits spin the marionette,
until he’s bound by his own sinew,
in the edge of their favorite room;

the spectres spread the pall
in a sinister flourish, over the
tremor in his deadened eyes;

the past whispers heart-halting
fairy tales of twisted truths
and manic manipulations;

the phantom pains remind him,
with a tick upon his psyche, that
he yet lives in this nightmare;

pandemonium unbeknownst, mutes
his tongue, lest others discover it
hiding in a corner within his head

art: serenity by pekthong

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