The ghost with the smile.

Look closely please;        
see the waning of my wavering wrists,        
see the bones that protrude outwards brusquely.        
Leisurely dwindling down my timeline;        
releasing the ghost with the smile.        
     
She smiles because her voices purposely        
led reality astray;        
she is everyone and belongs only        
to astute firmaments.      
      
An insignia of her mental distress        
gushes into the atmosphere simply        
for human viewing pleasure.        
They call her bleeding the northern lights.    
        
She resigns resolutely on the Dog Star,        
with incandescent kings of nefariousness        
spilled chaotically around her.   
          
Her jaded eyes are the moon,        
craters scatter on the surface        
filled to the brim with burnt out days.    
If you look closely enough        
you can see the barrel of a gun,        
glaring dead straight into your darkest secrets.     
                     
Her erratic breathing sets free lethal hymns        
that sink naively into weary skin.        
Millions of final breaths dance,        
to one trembling voice.        
     
Lips worn with words never spoken,        
smile when they hear the feeling of escape          
echoing softly in their ears.      
      
Spirits leave, and rise fluently.        
To peacefully endure infinity        
beside a ghost with a smile.