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I was getting hazily crazily drunk in a dream

A Sunday afternoon nap was the proper portal

Someone was on my butt about it, trying to stop me

The being was some kind of a woman

One who cared, one who loved perhaps

One who followed, one who nagged even so

But then I absorbed into the walls like a ghost sheet

I became wallpaper, the kind that’s hard to peel off

I was effervescent and timeless

Soaking in like spilled murder blood

In one hundred years someone will try to strip me off with a ray gun

But my spirit will never fade

I can go from this dimension to the next with the slightest of ease

I can come back to haunt the hollow halls and rooms

New bodies move around

And I can brush against them

Make them wonder if they had been touched by a long lost loved one

I can look out the broken windows at the yellowed fields

The sentinel trees so green and tall

I see the world overgrown, lonely, lost

Patterns and misgivings

Askew by time and neglect

Nobody wanders out here anymore

To tend to the broken fence

To trim the weeds

To water and trim the roses

Inside at dusk and the house fades to dark

Candles aglow in certain holes

Tears in the fabric of time and space itself

Cold spots, hot spots

The things that set the ghosthunters’ machines off

The tense whirs and squeals

The flashing lights

I wonder why they bother me

But now I can mess with them

Throw something across the room and they gasp

I have no ill intent

I’m just a wandering soul

Fading away in time

But never ever leaving.