You’re the ghost
In my spine that
Never sleeps.
Grasping vertebrae
Like smothering rabbits.

And the sky has never
Seemed so grey.
Clouds charcoaled like
Seizures.

Throwing fits
Of what-if’s
And passing
latitude like
It could never matter.

And the churning
In my stomach
Never ceases.
Hands to the creases.


And the water boils
Over.

And the sheep all die.

and I'm lying restless

Like you
Don't

exist.

And you can’t
slumber quite yet.

Because my hands are
Hollow
And the
World
Might
Depend
On your
Last
Breath.
 

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others