Tuesday, February 3, 2009


Do you believe in ghosts?

I do.

They are insidious, the wraiths that plague my life, persistent and implacable. I see them behind the yellow of your eyes, peering out with their hot cruel gaze, meeting the spring green of my pain with a twisted rapture in the bleeding. I hear your cries of despair beyond their cruelty and feel your struggle to contain them.

Ghosts ride our shoulders like demented jockeys, digging spurred claws into our decisions and choices, twisting thoughts and emotions into a confusing morass of subterfuge and decisive repudiation.

My ghosts, your ghosts … they’ve been with us a long time …. and I wonder often just how much our demons have controlled who and what we are – how much have they influenced the essence of who you are? What words have been their words from your beloved mouth?

Does everyone have ghosts? Phantoms from the past who defy the logic of the space/time continuum and reach into our now? Demon memories, sinuous and patently, frighteningly real, yet insubstantial as smoke…. reaching, you are unable to grasp the corporeal reality of these wraiths yet the sting of their venom strikes agony into the reality of the now.

It is also often impossible to truly gauge the impact that one’s own ghosts have upon our psyches and our decisions, how much do they in truth guide and demand? As I trudge through the blandness of my daily rituals, I seek insight, awareness of the spectrum of their influence.

There are benign ghosts as well, soft, drifting spirits who envelop me in a poignant regret for past moments of pure delight and create in me a yearning for the innocence and purity of crystal seconds of joy.

I remember moments in our lives together of pure understanding, a touching of mind and spirit and soul, a pure, hushed clarity of purpose and meaning that transcended the crassness of the physical world

I remember cold Montreal streets and the warmth of your hand in mine and the sensuous, cerebral scent of fresh baked croissants drifting enticingly in the crisp snap of snow which slicked tears against the pink of my cheeks and kissed curls into the throbbing crimson of my hair, vibrant against the grey of winter.

I remember your hair, long curls kinky and plumped by the humid air, your eyes brilliant, cheekbones rapier sharp in the emaciated loveliness of your face.

I close my eyes and can smell you… the rich sharpness of your predator’s scent, the loamy, fertile fragrance of your arousal, intoxicating, enticing and remember my breasts swelling, nipples hardening and yearning towards the coolness of your snow-slicked palm and the trembling desire between my thighs, the slippery slick need to feel your long hard cock push up into the swollen want.

Phantoms … ghosts of a past regretted, thrilled to, embraced and done.

Wraiths, secret and cruel, insubstantial and corporeally alive, twisting lies into truths and truths into remembered lies.

Ghosts…. riding the tidal bore of our tumultuous lives.


Loving Annie said...

Good Tuesday to you, Selkie.

I only have mildy ominous-everpresent ghosts when I have transgressed in some way and not made proper full amends for it, or cut the cords appropriately.

I have benign ghosts when I have been loving to someone who has passed.

I truly believe in and respect the spirit world, and think they exist in peace with those who have done right by them in accordance with karmic law.

And then there are the sexy ghosts you mentioned, the memories of pleasure and love...

Anonymous said...
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Anonymous said...

Never have had a reason to believe in ghosts but use to have a crap scared out of me a lot when I was a little kid when I heard ghost stories. The most supernatural experience I have had occurred when I was about 24 and I felt a hand reach out and stop my car from spinning out of control on a country road.

Buffalo said...

Yeah. I believe in ghosts. Over the years I've been visited on more than one occasion. Mosts of those ghosts are memories; memories sweet, bitter-sweet, angry, and regretful.

I've learned to live with my ghosts. They have become almost familar friends and, in becoming such, have little power over me.