Ghost Boy

From the depths of someone else’s creation.

You arrive.

Stopping in stillness amongst the liminality of wave and shore.

Conducted through cold salty darkness, like the electrons running through a battery’s core.

Cleansed and pure.

A ghostly shadow of reality, confused with scenes from a TV screen.

You bring with you the ungraspable, half remembered, unknowable knowing,

that in the dream world alone can only be sought yet never fully wrought.

To the depths of someone else’s creation.

You return.

Leaving the sea of my unconscious to writhe and churn.