My bankvault skull, screwed shut, up, and over, 

Is dripping ghosts like a leaky faucet.
Semisweet whispers and bitter grins,
Still overpowered by a single spectre;
A single haunting that never eases,
Twisting sun-stained afternoons into aching twilight.
Halfblind, I see it like a splotch on a Polaroid.