Ghost

Ghost

Pt 1 The sick one

Stuck in place

like cement has found its way

into the seams of everything.

Wants and needs.

Body.

Time.

Some days I wonder

if my ceiling is the only one 

who sees me. 

Some days I wonder

if I’m the only one who sees.

I’m a ghost.

Invisible, 

on the outskirts,

always looking in

and never interacting.

I’m pushed out

and forgotten.

Beyond that 

what we think of as living,

only watching what you got.

Pt 2 The green monster

I'm envious, that's true. 

And, maybe, some part of me

should feel ashamed about that.

but I don't.

Honestly, what's the point in lying?

I do not have space in me

to dive beyond self pity. 

Maybe green is an ugly colour on me

but I wear it nonetheless.

I know that I want what you got.

Is it that confusing to understand?

Not instead of you

or in replacement of,

but in addition to.

Pt 3 The artist 

I just want to be remembered 

for creating beautiful things

and for telling beautiful stories 

with the tip of my fingers.

Instead I find my art dying in my hands.

My life has turned into a graveyard.

I don’t even remember 

what I was trying to make,

or how it smelled 

and how it felt to hold it.

All is lost.

I wish someone was impressed

with the things I created 

before I forgot them. 

I’m sure it was the best thing I ever made.