asking for a friend

have you ever worn a mask for so long that you’re afraid to take it off and breathe in the unfiltered world? would your lungs be able to handle it or would they burst in an alien atmosphere?

have you ever worn a mask for so long that you’re afraid to take it off because no one might recognize you? would you recognize yourself? how long has it been since the sun touched your face?

have you ever worn a mask for so long that you’re afraid to take it off because you don’t know if there’s anything worth seeing underneath?

have you ever continued wearing a mask to protect those around you from what you’ve become because you value their opinion and you just don’t want them to see how damaged you really are?

 

ghost

stell e r

i’m not sure i like this cascade of starlight even though here we are all aglow. weary, of course, but still aching to be known. actually, i just want to be heard. i couldn’t care less if you think you know me. i wonder how you could when i don’t even know myself.

please don’t look up at me like meaning is cradled here in the arms of my universe. at best i think my purpose calls entropy home.

i’ve had one too many stray tastes of my own blood. so i sit here watching orion’s looming unravel and i think that not even constellations can remember their names.

 

ghost

memories of magic

and what of the magic encountered each ordinary day? i have seen wrists that can turn my head. i have been leveled by a good morning smile, doused with chills by another’s joy, left quiet in a room awash in chaos by the way someone moves through the crowd.

i believe in that power, of movement and feeling and thought and the nearness of creation and sway.  these moments echoing in flux are fleeting, but the memory of their magic stays long after its wielders have gone.

 

ghost

trademark

i’ve realized something about myself. i’m a lot like a Motel 6. rough around the edges, definitely seen some criminal activity, but f*ck, if you need me, i’ll leave a light on for you.

ghost

stoke the glow

as new as a freshly conjured daydream, i draw from a spring of erratic meditations held much like my breath and dance around death with abandon in tandem and sugary steps. like a follow impressed by a lead or twined vines in an undisturbed grove of trees. i gotta stoke that glow, you know, because dawdling has become the antithesis of my purpose.

i have spent too long asleep, or for moments, lazily discontent.

 

ghost

basic

so some of my girls were just talking in my class and they drew me into their conversation for a bit. the topic was nothing serious and i found myself chuckling over some of their perspectives.

“all you girls are so odd,” i said jokingly, but they suddenly looked so offended.

“why?” one of them asked.

“because you can’t even,” i said.

dude, it was crickets.

“come on, man. that was funny.”

they did not find it to be so.

 

my talents are wasted here.

 

ghost

dusted

i am the color of yesterdays and faded dreams. i am painted in a brown and browns acrylic palette. like dust. and like dust, i’m swept out of corners of houses and eyes. my heavy sighs do not portend or surmise. i’m just f*cking tired.

i am somewhere in time, i think. i am, but i might be broken. i might be a tombstone. i might be a wandering scourge. so i stay away lest you or dusk lament.

 

ghost