The Thieving Dream-Host

When you’re shaken and stirred by your love for another And the song of the heart sends the head to the nether When you clean all the grim off the hope to discover The pale ghostly figure of a once strong lover Standing over your shoulder and in the path before yer All the words that was spent, all the touches too How the blood pays the rent when the heart’s overdue How the future’s forgotten when the past clutches you How temperament is timed to the reenactments untrue In the old habitual view of the beacons in the blue All the wistful dreams admired in the over-exposed night Secretly mishandled in the darkening morning light Brilliantly disguised amidst the many a broken right All pent up, packed and unboxed at heart’s aching sight For the hard-eyed delight of which no ashes reignite It’s a curled lip glossy spread and a pout at the ghost It’s a damaged motor chanting on the road to the coast Where lone-isle weary figures are cloaked standing on post Claiming their measure, their misgiving, their bitter boast About the thieving dream-host to whom they gave their heart most