Ephemera

morning to night i hear the sirens call- the swan-song of my innocence. i only ever wanted to walk unafraid. now, at the precipice of who i should've been, and who i had to become-to survive. the boxed up wounds, the memories- they cut like a knife, when i can no longer sleep. i can lay claim to more ghosts than i ever wanted. when can i just give up, and force myself to let go? because as often as  i want to lay them to rest, these ghosts echo in me, and won't let me be.

i’m fine

can the whispers be turned up a bit? so i am not the only one that hears them.... would you still have the same orange-peel smile? this city breeds despair   like north texas cattle. here i watched my own zeal die, over, and over, while i spent days on the third floor wrapped in cold sheets now i watch my resolve and memories dissolve with a tablet on my tongue- numbing like an aspirin. swallowing ghosts is easy as swallowing my words i ate my mother-tongue like grapes that dionysus would envy. let me sleep let me sleep i wish we could speak, like our flames demand.