deepundergroundpoetry.com

Ghost

“Ghost”

I do not feel a thing.
I can only be imagining
Such a thing as life inside my veins,
As no blood, only the ache, remains.

Behind daylight, my heart is open
With the shadows I have chosen.
I don’t remember if I let them in,
Or if this is the way it’s always been.

Does it feel feverish? This sad oppression
Of my own design? My own repression?
It feels like someone else is beside me.
It feels like my insides move inside me
While I am still. Still and loveless as a stone—
It is a crowded sensation, though I’m all alone.

I want to leave, but I’m a ghost.
Only dimly aware that I am the host
Of my haunting, but so painfully aware
That I am not fully there:
That there is emptiness where I should be,
And that is the void that is haunting me.

Collapsing light is drowning around my face,
Leaving a wounded shadow in its place.
Undevoured hours are eating me before they come
And I wish there was a sightless someone
Who could see beyond, in their blindness,
What is left of my faith. And my kindness.
Would it be meaningful if they felt my pain
And did not expect me to explain
What makes me the man you see today?
Or would they look at me and turn away?
Who? Who would help me? Who would help me?


© 2022 Marten Hoyle
Written by MartenHoyle (Vate C. Carmen)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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