head shakes

and sometimes, the ghosts of a reckless summer

rise up from blurry memories of drunken sunsets that blur into sunrise

and sometimes, the ghosts of a reckless night

try to settle into the wasted moments of the present, 

wanting to sink their cold fingers into warm  flesh of potential.

but sometimes, when it's easy to sink back into that sea of destruction,

ghosts have had their second chances, loose lips sink ships, baby,

and this is not an S.O.S.

but sometimes, the ghosts of a reckless summer

rise up from blurry memories of drunken sunsets that blur into sunrise

and sometimes, it's best to become the ghost in someone's mind

rising up and walking alone, away, into a wasted sunset that blurs into a sunrise