is there any
worse possible fate
than to be a
self aware ghost
haunting an
empty apartment
as life goes on
outside your door

to be remembered
as something i was not
from the safety in
the greener pastures
of tomorrow’s rot
a chained phantom
unable to escape the
clarity of hindsight

while old flames
ignite bundles of sage
amateur resurrectionists
seeking second chances
in the bipolar depths
of salted holy ground
where salvation and
damnation are the same

disturb not the bones
charred and shattered
the sarcophagus where
mummified adoration
was callously interred
of self aware ghosts
haunting empty rooms
longingly rattling doors