By Michael Cunliffe
In passing half-seconds I see Apparitions floating on air, And in the moments between I see beings not even there. I see a ghost blind and adrift In a sea of other folks’ fears, Alone, crouching and hidden, Counting the passing of years. All the while I’m half awake And yet I’m also half asleep, Lost in nightmarish dreams I now realise this ghost is me.
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