#1006 - own ghosts

 

8.x.22

1006

3.280

own ghosts

for ghost writing

 

if I were this that

but I can’t believe

 

let the day in where I lie

 

think of those moustaches, pomade

a waltz, a sword at side

 

the last years lived to death

a little name, no trouble

 

this little of who I am concealed

as all true selves must be

 

sometimes think ghosts won’t want me here

a bullet as real as why waste one?

 

everyone hides some self in the fact

and misery for company

 

imagine me blithe and on

questions asked for centuries

 

still wandering

still wondering

 

ghosts are always hungry

 

by what rights?

on whose ground now?

 

who?

how am I to be?