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…