Ghosts

There's a ghost in the corner, laughing, chanting: concentrate!
Inside that mirror for so long, chasing shadows, complicate
His existence. I feel his breath, feathered summons tease my skin.
That hushed, feral voice commands expulsions of fear from within,
Demands primitive responses, scorching squeals of twisted lust;
Whispers escape me, possessive, rupturing the silence, rushed
And ragged, allowing visions of ecstasy so long hushed...
Strangled words puffed from my parched lips serve to predicate
The fascination roiling deep inside, too raw to pretend
Indifference to this demonic jewel, pleating thoughts, I must!