The Death of a G...G...G...Ghost

People think that ghosts are not real because they aren't made of atoms and molecules.  It is an age of scientific materialism, even with the advent of quantum physics.

But ghosts are real:   they are made of images and viewpoints, memories and lost hopes.

I am a passenger riding on your dreams.  Through them, one to another.  I am a spirit of your times.  Mr. Zeitgeist.

When I'm mad, I can eat your heart and poison your mind.  I can creep into your fears and amplify them to any extreme..   I can make you want to do horrible things.  I can make you want to ruin your life without even knowing it.  I can turn your little world upside down--so you'd better not fuck with me, dear.

Most of the time, you want to conjure up my distant ineffectual cousins.  Most of the stories they weave are about happy people and happy endings.  An obsession to make everything turn our all right in the end.  Isn't that what faith is all about?   It happened because it was meant to be.

But I am that weariness that won't leave you.  The feeling that inevitably returns after you've had your fun with a long night of drinking and dancing.  I am what is left after the thrill is gone.   I fill your emptiness like a glove.

The only way to master the story is to know when to stop.   If you keep on telling the story long enough, there are no happy endings.   For all stories eventually end in death.

But if you want, I'll tell you your future.   You come from dust, you walk in the dust, and you go back to dust.

Ashes to ashes, funk to funky.