Ghost Thrills- Always ten steps back I can hear you hide 
behind the nearest tree from half way across the street. 
So I lock my doors, close the curtains, turn off every 
light and pick something to arm myself with. Watch me try 
to avoid the flashing Polaroid. You wave the shot til 
colour forms and press it against the keyhole. A portrait 
in my line of vision was taken when my back was turned 
from an angle that strikes concern. Prowl around. Peering 
over each footstep that's become a token of another hour 
spent tense and focused. I know your face. I know your 
thrills. I've seen what you have done to girls in the 
past and so I ask just what do you want with me? Pacing 
back and forth and kicking dirt on the front lawn, I 
decide this restraint's become an order. I appoint my 
fist. Hell; quit hovering round and knock like everybody 
else. You struck concern and then struck out on my terms, 
my grounds, my shit. You're welcome to come in