Fell asleep thinking of the last cut,
Last time I let that be alive inside me.
Before another uncharted fall repeated,
Ended up with you following me there.

Woke up as one has many times before,
Shaking off feelings only real in dreaming.
No way to scrub down senses from fiction,
Torture I guess for living in this lonely divide.

Returned to see a phantom playing on,
Spirit that died eight years ago alive again.
She shocks me now and then via letters,
Yet never states her reason for her haunting.

In the end, I guess I’m tired of feeling unwanted,
So in the night, we live it in the only place we can.
Not right like so much else that’s been painted,
However fate don’t bother none, it won’t hear pleas nor demands.
Thomas Spychalski

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: