i live with my back to the west
i’m still a ghost, haunting every place i’ve ever been the sour tang of bleach sticks to me as i watch flies congregate on the chandelier and i'm very tightly wound there's something sickeningly sweet in the air the floral scent wafts in on the night breeze, it asphyxiates me like the words of a disappointed mother and you pull - pull - pull flesh from your still fluttering ribs sugary sweet like a pustulent wound, it’s delight oozes from my gray matter it pumps through my twisted guts, almost as good as blood and i'm very tightly wound red embers glow like a breath in a collapsing chest living as a wildfire, placidly watch as ash lands on my breast and the jasmine keeps flooding my lungs, like a drowning man in the pacific you’re in love with some one i used to be while i’m burning a hole in my bed maybe it's for the best |