Ghosts
8:57 p.m.//09.13.04

I wish yesterday would reclaim me

When I was able to see windows

When I had no dark tides within

My words hit the wall and stopped dead

My body scraped down along side

And I bled those words for days

I had been lying in that same position for quite some time

A few souls lined up

A few good souls

A few bad

Each hung a picture in the line of my vision

One was of high tension wires in a field

Another was of a nuclear winter

But despite how beautiful or grotesque

these pictures may have possibly been

I returned them not a single acknowledgement

Because my mind was busy chasing after ghosts

[messeges]
[them]
[mistakes]
[current]