To all those who suffered during the hurricane season of 2005.
So long as we have strength enough to breathe and blink, we have strength enough to survive and overcome.
Where once there stood buildings, now there lay chasms
See the shots live and on screen, we scream gasps and
Chemical sick water is pungent through gas masks as
I can hear the laughs, the laughs of phantasms
I can hear the ghastly laughs of phantasms
While living through hurricane Katrina, I discovered that you don't have to die to become a ghost. If you are wondering how that is possible, I'll tell you how it happens.
First, some morbid circumstance makes you an introvert. For me, that was a relatively easy transition to make after all the young years I had spent fixed in my bedroom living my life somewhere in between my television and my books. It is a state of very shallow depression where interacting with, or even having, friends is a veritable non-issue. A state of mind for the quiet and contemplative where there are seven things in all of your life more steady and familiar than anything else: Four walls, a ceiling, a floor and a single door that stands as your only, and seldom used, portal to the outside world. It is in this mind state that you begin to explore the limits of the question mark and use it more often than you use a period.
Next, you become isolated within yourself. I don't mean that you are set apart on a small plot of land out of touch with the rest of humanity. In fact you could be surrounded on all sides by people in this state and still feel utterly alone. It is in this state where you begin to feel your mind and body disconnect from one another and rather than working together like they always have, they just let each other go their own way and float. Here's where reality begins to bend and where chance blurts of imaginings can manifest themselves before your eyes so clear and solid that you can fool yourself into thinking that they are lucid reality.