Have we passed on from the glory of the gutter?
Life, afterlife
A literal ghost town
Our exploits exorcised like an apparition
Lore to fiction
Silhouette wraiths idling through latter-day stills
Murmuring “In Memoriam”
Our bodies, just transient headstones
A temperate death for the dead
OR…
Did we escape with our lives?
The final girl, hiding and crying wild
In the dailies of small town cinema-faire
Nine lives to be lived out mild
Oh, I want to live mild
Smiling and waving goodbye
To the ghost of the villain
Relentlessly stalking the frames of our sequels
Screaming, “You will never catch me!”
