Menu
that's how it goes
when you dance with the dead tonight should have been a night of celebration and it wasn't i sat in the darkness with my signed contract missing my daughter wishing i had anyone i could trust the dead put bracelets on my wrists or chains i can't tell anymore they wrote my book and i heard them sing when i signed these last proofs i remember reading this book when i was a kid titled phone calls from the dead if only i knew my future then these chains only we can hear the dead and i travel through time we ride on regrets we sit in basements on moth eaten couches knowing that the world has already failed us a record player keeps skipping in the dark I can't hear it anymore this hell is real last night i dreamt i was vomiting centipedes and ghosts when i wake all i wanted was to back to sleep my ghosts pin my eyes shut tape my mouth pry my ears open just so i can hear my muffled screams this is the way it is this is the way it will always be the tarot card fool is dancing in front of me his bells sound flat his eyes are black i can't breath when the dead hug me i swallow their mothball scent we laugh at the fluorescent track lights in the morgue some people call this light jesus but we know better the dead are crushing pens ink is bleeding everywhere i finger paint their words my heart is all palpitations as they paint their sorrow on my body these bruises aren't meant to heal they whisper in my ear i try to send them to the stars to the light we cannot see and they laugh
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorMichelle Tinklepaugh Archives
April 2023
Categories |