I am an electronic ghost with a bloodsoaked keyboard. My flesh is bread which now is broken.

We both turn away-our eyes never meet. This is now how we unwillingly greet.

Aching trachea flexes with senseless stress. This vibrating tentacle whispers words of distress. My eyebrows agaze, Fixated like stone. I hunger for bread, That is made from bone.

Itchy but warm, I quietly twitch with a blurred nervousness of a younger self. I pause... The rats scurry overhead, as I lay on broken bed.