Peddling ghosts

Peddling ghosts

~ Miss A

Where do dreams come from, a question,

Or are the characters so defined, a crossover?

As I realise, every thing I notice, or like sub-notice,

Are either there as a pivot, based on the sentiments they reverted,

Or the main second characters, if I had an opinion to think,

Some just half build distortions of 'em, some absolutely new.

The breach between the eyebrows, to the form of settling of the eyes,

For lord's stake, I'm staring too long, hypnotized by each being, what is this!

Trying to understand the architecture, no matter the subject being a child or an old,

The differences I see, and then to trace down similarly, feels like real gold.

But what's the power they hold? For some in my dreams just weaklings,

Some appear like a live-savers, some like peddling ghosts.

The one holding the seniority, sadly isn't the one who's save this damsel in distress,

It rather occurs to be the one who feels like the death of me.

Trying to pedal stones at it, statements, and poor everything to catch in the scene,

Some run shivers to the spine, and wake you up,

Others! Lord! They slowly increase the heat on a toad swimming in a pan,

And the only highlights of it is a blank dream, unknown, over with the dream, 'cuz unknown.

And slowly, after moment, which seems like a lifetime, there's another vision,

Should I call it a coma; or is it a second life? One minus the seven.

Thank lord for making me watch this video game of failures, over and over again,

Game over, re-live. So common, it's daily. Without it I drain lonely.

Wobbling feet, gambling shimmer; trying to pinpoint the aura which caused this,

Where did I see it, so familiar! Why did it have such an impact!

Show you my gallery, art pieces consisting of stranges, I devowered in my sleep,

Seems stupid and doesn't charm other people, but why me?

Would I be a strong ghost to pelt, in someone's dream?

Oh, I am totally aware of the once that see, well anyways, apart from it.

Would I present a strong aura? Would I be the one who haunts?

Yo that's weird! But that sound like a really nice compliment to me.

I must be one of the best to peddle, for why do know so much about one I never knew,

Or even never going to know. Trying to get into thier good glances!

What am I looking for, what am I haunting?

Am I the one I'm running from, hiding, in these dreams?

Not possible! Absurd! That's so ridiculous I think!

But to re-think it, ain't I all about that.

Baakya, I hate you for explaining me the difference between a comma, an exclamation, and a full stop,

I don't care about little of the souls, we all here to evaporate with time, why do I get stuck at semi-colons!

With how I am, I know I won't ever utter a "Hi", to meet and greet who I'm looking at so insensitivity,

But I let them dance, oh so insanely, play to puppet me.

Of a story, I am creating, why am I a victim, is that the definition of main lead?

I don't know, I don't know! I don't know. But one day I will.

The one that perches to gleam the Neves out of me, 

For once every few moments, I want to pause, a skech a glimpse.

Totally-constantly running-flowing to the direction, where the road signs are negative,

What should I read next, these novels not dystopian enough to please me.

For a new phase to try life with a bitch, shall I start trying these incantations?

Shall I let my grin to be visible in it, would it be rouge enough to pen a smirk?

What I am looking at, I am not sure no more,

Blurred visions, and a language, I do not ever be proud of.

A mixed culture kid with rhymes of third party, has to depend on frost to fix,

And randomly I hear cheers of fuck lord no more killn' me.

Just such a mew, when the surroundings sound like un-timed beatings coming from the drum skin,

No it's not the skin, it is the hollow within!

Lord I saw you today, a smooth ticket, so bless me,

I saw your thorns and ruthless power you'd transcend to the grief.

I do have a suggestion yet, why can't you appear when relaxed, why is it a massacre!

I'm seeing needless, I'm seeing bone. I'm watching dimples, I'm watching a jaw.

My knuckles suddenly feel eager to be popped, such a poppy,

My nails are dying to be trimmed, rage free pure destruction catching.

Where was I? Oh, on the aura with the once who turn themselves into a clown,

Clamping and representing themselves, like the modest of the society; joke.

Saw the one counting the beads, sure in thier prayers of the best to happen,

Wasn't clowns just sitting beside them, interrogating.

It's not my low now, my cheeks seem to puffen up,

Thought you could beat me to anything? Your mercy.

People, people; show me something more interesting than scrolling screens,

I take intrest in the drama that hides within the screen of your akin.

I saw a ruined piece of art, was worthless to all, except for the artist who's brew it,

Plus if you there in my dream, it's a shallow success to me already, deem it.

A bit of attitude to draw my attention, a salient ego would be a cherry,

I had a cherry once, not so glam, be my blueberry.

Let me note your every move, let me record it my head, so that I could replay,

I am a freebie, ready to fly by the hard rivers and the soft crop circles.

Coin me a term about being a practitioner of keeping attention and respecting 'em,

No matter if it has wings that are white upright or bruised fallen.

It's the first time for all of us on this planet, you and I so alike,

I could be peddling ghosts, or could be my ace piece.