The "Evil" Ghost

Red eyed, clad in black, her stare penetrating as she looms over my shoulder. Lips set in silence and yet her presence screams at me. I yearn for her and yet she frightens me so that I can also feel myself pulling away. The tension of being in between is driving me insane. The pressure pushes at my skull giving me headaches. 

I ask why and she says "Because you don't listen. You insist on forgetting. You push me away in the wake of foolishness. Squander my my gifts for the sake of being "considerate" and , of what, I ask you?"

And, of what, I ask my self....Time and time again I let my voice fade away. My knees buckle and heart is swayed. Not even before he who is worthy, my King, but at the beggings of those who only ask of me. Ask and plead and give hardly anything. Want and need but have nothing of offering. Nothing but empty hands emptier and promises. Weak hearts that spill not of love but desperation. 

Understanding, compassion, kindness, love, company, time, effort, money, ideas, touches, they pray of me and scorn me when I am withholding. They make me out a villian, a bitch, they call me selfish, inconsiderate...but I wish I could ask of them: How long would you have me wait?

Tell me how long would you have me wait for my own satisfaction? How long would you have me wait for an exchange equivalent? How long will you leave my heart in thirst as I pour unto you gold and receive in turn "..."

But in my wish to be loving and kind, to my own yearning I turn a blind eye and instead lay my sights upon those who call and I think that "Maybe waiting isn't so bad at all." Until, that is, at night I lay in my bed. Energy drained, dry, lethargic. Until, that is, I awake every morning yearning for the fulfillment of company yearning for the faces of those who call and praying this day is the end of it all. Praying this day we may touch upon a place that leaves me too with something to take...

So many leave me ever waiting and in my head I hear them saying  that if I truly cared I'd keep waiting, I'd try harder, I'd have fixed this already. It's my fault in the end, for not giving more...when I've given...all...I had to pour...

I always digress in my harsh words as I so fear growing cold. But in my words are the truth of my pain, the tendency to give more than I gain.

Herein lyes her scorn, the reason for her silent words. Unto me her ominous presence boring, tired of her feelings being ignored, of being left in the shadows and labeled such words...

Who is to blame? Who is at fault? Who is to perish in the flames of sins wrought?

Those who need...or she who see's and of herself gives no heed?

Or perhaps, burning is not what is needed. Perhaps merely a choice to be enacted. To hold my kindness and my power, to acknowledge my feelings and my compassion. To be patient without spilling so much blood...and embrace the ghost of what I need and want.