I imagine ghosts exist, if only to float and dance through the mist.
Not remembering who or what they are.
They don't speak, they don't weep
Instead they howl, gut-wrenching
Echoing down emptied halls.

They pass through spiders spinning webs
brushing the dust off statue heads
Forgetting names, or important places
They don't speak, they don't weep
Instead they wander, broken
Peering through ***** windows.

I imagine they prefer to haunt empty homes
Places like them, left alone
Gutted hollow, naked rooms
They don't speak, they don't weep
Instead they haunt, barley noticed
Wailing for their names

She used to come to me in whispers, hushed under the calm of the early morning.
"Just like her, just like her, you know you are"
I ignored the noise for years.
I had almost forgot to listen, he made me forget.

A fairy tale prince, riding in on a steed to slay my whispered monster
It starts that way, like a story book or a poem.
the weight of words lift
kisses on my forehead
Whispers can't be heard over a heartbeat next to mine.

It starts that way, all beauty and shine
somewhere, at some point, things grey
Whispers return, a little different this time
"He'll see, just like her. You know he'll leave. Just you see"
They devour the peace.

I remember now, as the monster comes scratching, rapping
her tired song
I remember now the lyrics to her curse
the endlessness that gathers, pouring dirt and sand
burring me slowly under

Just like her

Peel back the scales
the blackened bits
the blistered redness
the purple putrid scabs
inside are paper thin cuts
unhealed

The edge of me has never rounded
it remains sharpened
razor cuts are dangerous
The muscles within choke
bent and barbed in wires

A fatal heart never takes a beat
sealed meat, so tender
A cage can snap closed like a vice
pounding at the cellar door
echoing through the halls

What is it about that visceral sting?
A slap laced in venom
Oh, how it rips the skin
tearing our scars clean
Opened to the air,
the wounded will scream

A sophisticated song
Rupturing a forgotten well.
What is it about that sting?

Painful cuts bleed masterpieces
Our art is within
The viscous call it out
The hurt pours the shroud
What is it about that visceral sting?

His smile never met his eyes
expressions shatter
tensions flow
lips flash a twitch, truth hides

Remember still the evil grin
Telling one lie
Leaving behind another
respect is flattering
charming

He tells you one thing,
Then decides another way
Left is right when he wishes
Where do these conversations lead?

Respect is fenced by thorns
Underneath the petaled flower
She'll draw blood if provoked
Graze the blackened storm

Its here, this hurricane

Blow by blow, these scars are torn
Pillaged memory, lost feelings
Beyond a road I don't wish to walk
The hammer stings the lonely stone
Calling our names

Frisk glasses pure of wine,
background noises remedy the rhyme
Calice fingers ***** the vines
Grapes bleed purple, roots entwined

Pause and bask in sweaty sun
The star of heat
A meadow overrun
All the while the vines grow
up the house on Willow Road