home, somewhere.

I'll leave the doorway with the light on.

If ever you do come near

take me with.

The ghost creeps alone along the mantel.

Blindly wrapped presents each year

swallow the ribbons tying your tongue.

You don't stain my yard like you used to.

Like the way my memory fades

blinds and shades in my way.

The gallows so silent in snow,

flakes of your oldest halo won't glow anyways,

so don't stick around here

don't play where you're not supposed to.

The stain on my shirt

the speck in my eye

both came together in the dark of the night,

looked exactly the same

and It felt like that nightmare of mine.

You don't stain with the shoes you left here.

They're buried out back with the shovel.

Like the way my mother claims

the apologies she's made

that we're both going insane.