I hate opening blinds
and seeing ghosts staring me
in the face at night

I think i'm in silence
and then i'm painfully reminded
by the humming computer tower

That unlucky thing
has to think all night

i hate that the dreams
i wake up from
are never the ones that
put me to sleep

In the dark i lose count
of the sets of eyes in my room

And that low moaning sound
is probably some ancient memory
I have yet to fuck away

I can almost see them
with their heads to the sky
crawling on their bellies

I find myself whispering to them
Almost like more volume
would bring on less attention

A finger brushes my cheek
and all the lights are on

Ghosts look very real in the morning

They look like girls

And i'm still inside one

05/21/2007

Posted on 05/22/2007
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