ghost story

the cold, hard facts are twisted like taffy
open wide for sugared strands of corruption
pulsing cavities hint at self-destruction
in the afterimage of chemical brightened smiles

let me take this out of context with canvas and oil
will you stay the course, seeing what you want to see?
while i paint the landscape in distorted hues
pulled from the palette of our modern prophets

fabricated threats and dire warnings
are monsters under the bed, eating up our hopes
once upon a time there was nothing to fear
but now the closet rattles with mushroom clouds

i choose not to eat the witch's poisoned apple
to sleep while toyed with by puppetmasters
or wait for a hero's strength to rescue me
from a death i welcomed into my own sacred body

let me take this out of context with paper and pen
will you stay the course, hearing what you want to hear?
while i walk you through this disturbing landscape
of past truths erased by ever-present lies