White Ghost

white and the stoke head held in line,

withers away by thy stone.

cold and alone in shallow waters—

you’re all I’ve got left to adore.

saints and sinners are such a bore.

white ghost, come within the shadows.

let the beat in my heart follow you.

let me find you.

i’ll be your canvas,

too wet for you to vent.

stay out of fent—

don’t threaten,

or you’re bound to end up like trent.

white is just gore for the ghost.

black is the shallow end;

the others will follow.

i’ll light the flamethrower,

chant the syllables,

rhyme with my limbs.

we can talk about tracks

while i sit with syntax.

hold on to white ghost—

i said, sin attracts.

reload and feel the load.

no—silly—

it’s bound to fifths.

shades darker than grave-shallow.

all that just made you,

swallow.

and the ghost is still—

maybe find shade at the road’s end.

no bay.

this isn’t the end.

the loads start to hit.

i wander for the shallow.

as the light ends

with no one left to follow.

if that’s the curse,

and the river is new,

maybe this will be the end.

isn’t that what repels?

belt.

still shows mellow.

no dent.

hell.

it’s all bet.

end the shame.

the trilogies get thicker.

makes you think it was all slick.

that shit—makeshift.

end on one.

ick.