Listen to The Integrity of Skeletons by Richard Charles Stevens
Listen to Vortex by John Carpenter
Haunted by ghosts of the living
Apparitions of a life I once knew
Specters of a past long left behind
Of an existence which so many see resigned before they’re through
Ghosts of stolen yesterdays
Caressed away from sight
Wraiths in the siesta phase
Too shy to face the light
Vacant eyes that best convey
Deep longing to belong some place
Where destiny and fate can realign
Shivers running down the spines
Of former lives entwined
Denied forgiveness
For the sickness
Which was with them when they died
A blight delivered to the after life
For listless were their parting cries
The sacrifice of acolytes
To sate departing appetites
Heretofore these fracture lines
Denote the glow of captive tides
The ebb and flow of streams revived
From each cohesion actualized
Contractual ties aside
I died to see them feel alive again
For in my naked state of mind awakened flamed desire to strive to thrive again
Specters of lives nowise left behind
Bid chime to testify
Final breaths caressed away whence death denied
Even though I walk the line through valley of the shadows
The eerie pathway cleared me nary narrows
Herein fears are persevered
To seek the cheer in sorrow
Thus ghosts of stolen yesterdays
Are better placed to grace these plains tomorrow
Deep within the hollow
I take comfort from the path
My haunted heart
Once bound in chains
Feels charmed to follow
Shivers running down the spines
Of former lives entwined
Denied forgiveness
For the sickness
Which was with them when they died
A blight delivered to the after life
For listless were their parting cries
The sacrifice of acolytes
To sate departing appetites
Heretofore these fracture lines
Denote the glow of captive tides
The ebb and flow of streams revived
From each cohesion actualized
Contractual ties aside
I died to see them feel alive again
For in my naked state of mind awakened flamed desire to strive to thrive again
Haunted by ghosts of the living
Apparitions of a life I once knew
Specters of a past long left behind
Of an existence which so many see resigned before they’re through
Richard Charles Stevens
Keeper of The Crimson Quill
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