Where Ghosts Reside

Vanished of color, lips scrambled
for those unnecessary words,
deficient from the natural course
of speech that ignite the mind to
write about tearless eyes with no
expression.

Empty roads, passengers dressed
in black, railed with clenched fists
as they examined a route map. The
ship’s course would be altered; in
space, barren rocks are the stuff of
hoodoo,

alive with unseen messages, and for
some, an unwelcome truth. Time,
mortal hours, a nuisance to prisoners
who were neither sociable creatures
nor good-natured spirits. Brown earth
stained red by betel-nut juice,

held the fortunes of the unjustified,
guilty of displaying the wares of
their souls by the pursuit of lively
pages vehemently written in subject
and condition, against the colony.
Their blunt, big mouths; a rhythm

of life, patterned from birth, now dead
to mankind. Their presence aggravates,
embarrasses, there are consequences
for their replies. The censors do not
believe in the diversity of human
personality nor the bewilderment

that comes from voice. But there are
psychic elements in the show of rhetoric,
a huge misfortune for the narrow-
minded who dress all in black and
walk with the physical casualness of
the very dull.

Solitary paths, imaginary footsteps,
rusty hinges whining through the short
drafts of uncompleted stories; the
spirits spin the compass. Skin-walkers
shape-shift, immortalizing the reputations
of those who harbor such criminals;

to where the ghosts reside.

Theresa likes to write about matters of self-inflection and personal experiences. She likes to write about matters of an out-of body, out-of-mind state, as well as subjects of an idyllic, pagan nature and the occult. Theresa writes horror, as well as concrete gritty and realistic dramas. Theresa is said to be witch and a poet. (within the horror writing community).

Find more by Theresa C. Gaynord in the Author Index.

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