I Am A PhantomI Am A Phantom
i am a phantom, an apparition.
i'm exhausted from not living
enough. not breathing enough.
the cold flows in again: i choke.
you've been gone for ten million
days and i feel the cracking again
of the depressions i bring forth:
and i eat the sadness like candy.
i'm killed by all the love i'm fed.
that sick part of me wants to just
lie in agony for my great losses.
i saw every single one disappear.
i am a phantom: dry and quiet.
and i beg winter's gloom to cradle
me with its heavy, murderous hands.
i will become the damnation i crave.
you've been pixels on screens,
and you've been an ancient picture
in a frame that hides now, face down
under the anvil of my bed: lingering.
i'm dying here. i want to die here.
the beast in my head pats my back
and tells me that i'm content with it:
the soft buzz of silence; heavy eyes.
i am a phantom. nothing is enough.
i am never satisfied. i am never alive.
i don't understand this all-too-familiar
The FleetingThe Fleeting
it's that fleeting feeling.
knowing little flames on trees
will ash on the drying ground
far sooner than you think.
i can smell winter's hands
brushing at the night air,
and i'm reminded so much
of the safe purity of home.
it's that lovely fearfulness
like how the last proud maple
hangs down her final yellows
like drippings from a faucet.
and back at home, the snow
is alive like a giant creature
lounging inside everything.
the infinite white is inescapable.
it's that prickly, sad urge
to immortalize those leaves,
preserve their tiny crinkled souls,
in a photograph's flattened shell.
color remains in this place
of delayed change
i need my eternal winter now.
i need the calm again: the freeze.
it's that silent breath of cold
that creeps in like a sickness.
so sly, so deviously in stride,
it puts all of the trees to sleep.
the grass is browning here.
burning in the cool light of Lunis.
she looks down at me tonight
like she had from my
Wake of the ClosureWake of the Closure
curtains fly as you slip away.
the quiet lingers here again
over my shoulder like a fog:
dark and grey and blinding.
a heavy gloom whispers to me
with a voice i'm required to obey.
i dive deep into pools of sorrow
sweet like old, familiar smells.
my past dangles from my ankles
like wedding cans along the road:
crackling, burning, simmering there
with their big "we miss you" eyes.
i needed so badly to gaze upon you
and press open an unseen smile.
my sickness strangles me lovingly
gathering the happy hurt in my lungs.
flashbacks seed my consciousness.
times in your house and at the park
flicker in my mind's empty theaters.
this new life is just a fucking dream.
it was all just yesterday, it seems.
like tomorrow morning you'll come
and we'll go back to how it used to be.
we'll return to the consistency of old.
oh, god, i'm giving in to the disease.
i'm lying down to be battered by it.
this journey forward has been taxing,