the aftertaste of loss and failure coats my mouth as i slur my apologies to the wind and stumble my way to my front door
i try not to blame myself for how things turned out to be but when people say there's a whole universe inside of you it's hard to sleep soundly at night
because how could i contain multitudes but not be able to do anything when people come and make me feel like a house being emptied out of its furnitures and picture frames
even ghosts seem to shun my presence but wouldn't it be perplexing to say that it's because i am doing a better job of being a phantom than them?
when you see what the inside of my head looks like you will see a ghost town inside a snow globe and there are fault lines everywhere.