The Ghost of Me

I see a pale faces flicker in broken neon. Black eyes turn to me With knowledge vast. I fear the ghost of soul… A face full of Age. Lights from vacant stores falls on… Still trees and cast Shadows of intricate weave. Buzzzzzzz… Tick... Neon sizzles and flickers in rhythm. A spark... Twilight rains in. Aeons turn as I walk on through ancient streets of a wind blown city. I wander in strange darkness at nights zenith at odd dead hours POP.... Buzzzzzz… Click… I See... Faces float like bloated balloons... Barren as bitter moons Twisted in screams of Passion Hate or Rage… I can't tell. Road ends… I have to earn a mere wage. I languish in this man made Hell. I wander through streets of great cities or Some that use to be... Faces follow. I run... Stop... A street car with the days peasants packed like meat from machines turning teeth. Faces of each are like dead corpses. Hang onto lives...few threads. Each scarred as bitter moons in dry harvest. Float like old balloons that… Flounder on… Waves that drain Into wells in a vast past. I fear the faces that follow. They are not of my world But are distant and hallow. I can't comprehend, I know not! I only want to flee… Their empty eyes boring into my back I see…the ghost of me!