For Real Though (Capacity Pt. 18)


For Real Though (Capacity Pt. 18)

Nobody ever believes anything I say and sometimes I don’t believe me either. I mean, how much can I trust my eyes? I wear glasses and besides I’ve become or maybe I’ve always been that family member that’s a bit off. You know, the one who’s seen too much, heard too much, been in too many odd situations. The one who has a lot of theories but not a lot of proof. Yeah, I’m that person but I’m telling you, I’ve seen some shit. I’m telling you, something is up. Some “strange things are afoot at the Circle K” kind of stuff. What if I told you death isn’t the end? What if I told you I know what those towers are for? Oh, you wouldn’t believe me. You see a high rise and I see a factory. You see apartments and offices and I see where ghosts are made just not in the way you might think. But, never mind, I’ve already said too much and besides you don’t believe me but believe this, if one day you don’t hear from me again be certain somebody somewhere heard me telling you this.

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And This Is Why


Dreams graze on ghosts

and have since wind

became breath.

 

Over burned matter

brought fertile again

future’s erected

ghosts beneath.

 

Sleep is for haunting.

Desire is terror’s

idle hands.

 

Verge joining

dreamy teeth

to phantasmal grassy tips

 

Connective tissue

of sleep

and specter

 

Give muscle memory and aftertaste

of work

storing its grievances

in shoulders.

 

As beds are of no relief,

repose

only lets re-enter

the gone

and forlorn

 

tasked to give sensibility

to pain.