Ghosting.

The moon is full,

and tonight it's rising high.

I can feel it's pull.

Lunacy is in the sky.

Less like a being,

And more like a spirit,

From all that I am seeing,

This could be it.

I only want to reach the ending

Take me to where madness lives,

I don't mind the agonizing sending,

going through life's useless sieves.

I can feel the delicious moon,

Different and wrong, but everything i've wanted.

Almost to be touched, so soon.

Forever, but no longer, flaunted.

But a word comes from below,

A single hello,

And eventually it begins to grow,

Reversing my blessed and unholy flow.

A river of self fighting the current,

determined to have my exit.

But that sickening cry is my deterrent,

because, away from the lunacy, I love it.

Common sense prevails,

Despite my best attempt,

and though I try, to no avail.

I can only look at the past with contempt.

How could I ever love the night,

a world deprived of friends,

No, I do not like that ghostly light,

it only speaks of my ends.

Lunacy is a curse,

and I refuse to see otherwise,

However, even to these words I am adverse,

Because I know they are lies.

To the nightsky, I'll always look.

Loving this world I am shackled too.

But thinking what it would have took,

To reach that world I wish I knew.