Surrender your laudanum, ice picks, electrodes
You cannot unhaunt me, nor render me sane
No more than a canyon can be uneroded,
Nor vision returned to the eye from the brain.
The paths in our cortices deepen with sadness-
The lines of the crane when the paper unfolds;
For what else is grief but a requisite madness-
What is a ghost but the clay in the mold?
a handful of feathers 
One thought on “ghost 09-22-22 + bonus comic”