I Am Touched

I Am Touched I am touched. You came to me in spirit, As it should be, And though I can hear the steel rumblings Of the outside neurotic world, I can hear your silent ghost voice squealing there, As with a trumpet pealing, With gnashing heralds afoot; We timorous pawns cover the ground For a fool and a twit. But you came to me in spirit, What is it you want to say? “There is no capacity here For any real truth because the fools, Are running the film sequences, With a creative terror unmatched Since the old epochs, When the ignorant wrote fat empty volumes To the darkness, and its bottomless chasms Of pyrite doctrines, Designed by more fleshed-out fools, With noses bleeding of putrid malignancies, To entrap the masses with lies And determined deceptions. There is no space here for anything remotely true, As a mirage feeds Nothing upon nothing, in the dry wind.” You came to me in spirit, so, Am I touched? Did you steal My drowsy and still mind For an hour in the dark night, And tattoo those words upon my soul So that I could fearfully turn back? I do not want this responsibility, Oh spirit ghost, oh you with Gray shoulders and red hemorrhaging earlobes, Arrived back from the old epochs. I am touched. .