the tranquility of ghosting.

how i crave the slick white sheet hovering inches above the ground, barely swirling as the limbo atmosphere stands lentic, no corporeal body underneath.

how i desire the limited peripheral, two cutout eyes that only let me stare towards the floorboards and kitchen and cutlery i cannot pick up.

how i yearn for the final destination within my house, the ectoplasm that follows me around as a new family crams their stuff into the cabinets, desperate to make my grave smell like home.

how i wish i could float beside them, staring quietly at the little tikes frolicking around the living room couch, eons away from my own state, unaware of my inevitability.

how i long to be unable to pick up the knife, or cup, or shaving razor, or blanket, unable to smother, or stab, or slice, or bash.

from the tranquility of ghosting, the inability to harm is what i want most.

i am haunted by a ghost
who calls my name,
who whispers in the wind
and runs in my shadow.
i know her, i know her well.
she was everything i could’ve been,
and everything i lost

He was a stranger
And yet everything felt strange around him
It felt like I’ve known him for years
His energy was familiar
The character he portrayed
made everyone feel like he have always been around

I'm gone.

And if I'm not,
Then I'm slowly fading,
Erased from thought,
My mind degrading,
Memories on fire,
Existence blazing,
But through the fire,
I stand there gazing.

But...

I'm lost.

Because if I wasn't,
Then I would be found,
Raised from the ashes,
Like a phoenix heavenbound,
So I'll face the thrashes,
Of anxiety leaving my mind,
I am forever now ashes,
Of a phoenix,
That fell to the ground.

you are cold
to the touch
despite that smile
purporting warmth
wraith
ghost
spectre
from the corner of my eye
you cannot disguise
your shape
your shadow
your intent