when the dead hold your hand

there is a dead man in my living room

a spirit
a ghost
whatever

his eyes are
 hollow eternity
his crooked smile
shatters the night

 the dead tell me
the future
when my mind
seeks emptiness

when i was
still in a crib
they watched over me
 got me to sleep
switched channels 
on the alarm clock radio
to my favorite songs
just to soothe me

but now they keep me
awake at night
their bones
cut into me
i toss and turn

while their 
hollow eyes
glow in the dark


with open-wound hearts
they come to me
to feel their pain

their stories
are time travel

now i am tired
tired of the living
 tired of the dead
tired of the shadow demons
that stand behind me
in every reflection
past pain
future pain

​when the dead 
hold your hand
​it is never the present