Empty today.
Empty.
Today, empty grey sky gave way to weak purple light
& I saw small:
distant stars, so far apart…
Empty today.
Empty.
Today the walls will not look back at me
because vision is just a trick of the light
& so am I.
Author: wordsforghosts
A dream I think I once had
You smoked a cigarette beside me
in the passenger seat of my car
in the dark, in the park one night
a lifetime ago.
You said: “We are born,
we do stuff
& then we die.
That’s all…
I wish I could, but
I just can’t make myself care
that much anymore…”
Spectral blue curls billowed out
from between the clumsy teeth inside
of your beautiful mouth,
& attempted to dance with those lengths
of false-coloured hair
you absently caressed.
You had an affinity for dysfunction,
you told me:
“I thrive among the broken things”
& I remember thinking
that it was fucked-up
how much I wished I was more fucked-up
than I already was.
I wanted too much:
I wanted your love.
Nothing else seemed important,
not the the future, not improvement,
not hope
or the vast tracts of free & unfettered time
that lay before us.
Eventually,
I drove you home.
Nothing much had happened
yet somehow it still felt significant.
After you had left me, as
I sat staring into the darkness,
the smell of smoke & your presence
lingered
& I was overcome
by sensation so intense,
that all that has followed since
feels like dull disappointment…
(This story is fiction, only the stories that composed it are true)
…I used to sit smoking on the windowsill of your bedroom window, not knowing anything…
Dying little deaths in & out of bed,
hollowed-out heads
rapid-shallow breath.
Cigarette sparks illuminate the dark;
drifting away in another
insignificant, unnoticed display…
The promises all fade away,
this became just another day,
one more entry wound into my brain.
The Moon
Tonight
the Moon is bright & beautiful,
just like you.
Our silver Sister watched as we lost
the last days of our dream.
Tonight
the Moon is so far away from me,
just like you.
Inside//Outside
He went to work.
He came straight back home.
Gave up his daylight-dreams of improvement
to the comforts of deranged sense & sleep,
& told himself that he would never do it again,
that he would stop thinking about it.
He didn’t.
***
She went to work.
She stayed out in the night.
Not wanting to return home to the stillness, to the nothing,
to the oppressive sound of silence,
she told herself that escape was found in oblivion, & that
she would never return again.
She did.
***
On Saturday, they were no-one.
On Sunday sunlight glided through the windows,
dust motes floated through the air
& the sound of birdsong
rose above the noise of the city.
It all became too much.
So, at different times,
in different places,
they both went outside.
They looked up to the sky
& something that felt like peace
perverted by corrupted innocence
filtered out everything
they had ever taken for granted.
They sensed beauty in the periphery.
They heard noises,
smelled fumes & perfume,
saw beasts & machines.
It all became too much, so
they both turned turned away
& went inside again
alone.
Words for Ghosts 