Vonnegut

What a final deconstruction for the promise of it contemptuous life.

With a natural weapon of defence and superior dread of evil, I found lonely and sickened, a tortured Spirit.

As night drew in, I approached the ingengenuity of its torture, breathing in defiance at the taunting of its glorious death.

What a final deconstruction for the promise of it contemptuous life.

In the midst of such torment , turmoil and peril I observed the quickness of its eye and the consolation of its jovial features, as it sat. 

  It only thwarted my every attempt at knee-knocking its unreflexed numb heart back into life. 

So, it was in my last angelical wing clapping footfall through stepping forward that I, awoke the Ghost.

In that moment like a cricket trapped in the chimney, an unborn pariah with its chirping, became white noise. 

Hunting me down with a dismal exhaustive appointment, the Ghost, the Spirit, tries to upend a new body. 

Dissapointed, it returns back to its source only to haunt its way back toward acknowledgment again; one day but never more as important as this.

The day it made itself known.