A Ghost to Myself

Loss. Sadness. Wandering. Hopeless.

---------------Still eyes are still ripe
---------------under the deep
---------------shells sown shut,
--------------------------

-deep like
---------------------------echoing hatches
---------------------------with cold metal
---------------------------ladders,
----------------rooms of blowing
----------------violence underneath
----------------a new finish,
--------------------------------light gray
--------------------------------over walls
--------------------------------red as velvet,
------------------------------------------------over blue like mist
------------------------------------------------from quiet Spring rain,
-------------------------------here he wakes
-------------------------------out of smoldering
-------------------------------ash worn,
------------------------------------------A thumb out waiting,
------------------no one can see him.