now is the time for ghosts

i speak like the sheep man, my truth
in harrowed pursuit of something i saw i saw for
only just a moment beyond the wall the wall
(the two moons cast the shadow of her heart & mind) 

i speak like the sheep man the wild chase,
no more nothing echoing in the cavities of my bones
but instead instead my head on a plaque (on a pillar on a pile of
six million) lost in a-maze of catacomb musk. 

i think like the sheep man and forget my skin
my Woul' is steel, and chaos and courage and restless
roam-antics. return is not dust, return is not death
i speak with the plague on my violet breath.