Monday, May 9, 2016


Ghosts sometimes come and visit me. <-- This is a request, not a statement of fact.

Sometimes you come over (not every time, otherwise people would notice).

I want to be invisible. Immersed. Entangled. A delivery of focus. A marriage of madness.  Enough figurative speech.

Your claws, upon my hand. Tearing minuscule wounds, so causing blood to emerge. Then the band aids.

The help. The gauze. The cute smile and wink. An envelope of persuasion, to persist. To live.

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