the average becomes the normal and the normal becomes the fantasied. the everyday took to long to grab my attention and I was left on the side of the road. The side that was in the sun, it burned my skin to a crisp and I was only left with the ashes. The ashes that represented the normal, the everyday, the fantasy that I can never get back.

if you dare bring it back, thats unheard of. if you leave it as is your a traitor. something to be ashamed of, you better fix it.

i've been seeing ghosts for
as long as i can remember now.
they sit idly on my bed,
              making small talk with
the skeletons who play poker
on my closet floor.
they call. flush, straight,
empty hands as the cards fall through
the gaps between their fingers.
together they brush worries
out of my hair, one by one.
they have nothing else to do,
                      and neither do i.

as strands of my hair are
placed gently behind my ear.
they speak to me,
but mostly among themselves.
"i can't tell you when it gets better, kid.
i can't tell you if it ever does."