5 years as a ghost. Coming and going and walking between the lights
Sometimes the sun seems so far away. I can taste the brush fire in my throat
Never closer to death. Somehow feels more alive. Inside my head the clock lags
Those tiresome, loathsome hours spent. Basking in dim light like a reptile
Languish under the weight. Knees don't buckle but the mind is weakening
Porous. Cavities rife with the tumors. Planted long ago
An acquired taste. Soon the dirt tastes like wine
There are the loathsome days. The bitter hours
Fire, urine, sepulchral smoke entwined
Dust coats it all. Choked with poison and holding a ransom
A mind that is clear. Twin eyes. Beholden
Crawl. Dragging your knees. On your belly. Blisters. Ooze
Everything went cold. Chittering insects beckon
Follow it down. Pull out your eyes and drown out the sound
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