The ghosts of the living

are just as impolite

when it comes to invading

your dreams

as the dead, the dead, the forgotten

and those that were never really there

but whose screams and howls

carry the night

like a matted grey she-wolf

giving birth on a deserted snow filled

field.

 

The ghosts of the living

taunt you, they criticise and in dreams

their punches, fully weighted,

leave bruises that grow black,

that insult and mock,

even when you know you were right,