i’m a haunted house
where the echoes of past laughs
ring faintly through corridors…
paint peeling, flowers on walls,
withering just as they were bloomed,
wooden arches like rusting ribs
covered in mist, ash and ghosts;
and i want to burn myself,
or possess the dead,
see if i wail or if i laugh,
under the flames or over the moon.
liminal haze of waking up,to a white walled,cob-webbed coffin,erasing life off too quickly,yesterday forgotten like,history
blinding sun and choking air,smoking nights in a longing lair,holed up naked or walking down
rub the soap till it’s petal thin, water in shampoo to keep it swell, same
part of this dark i am,she weeps beside meno sound no water,a disoriented beat,with only
sometimes, every word i have ever written seem pointless, devoid of any meaning… that those
