I am shaking apart,
one painful memory after another,
and all of the ghosts of my past,
are threatening to leave me.

I beg for ghosts to keep me company,
in my lonely cold world,
full of faceless creatures,
and the absent hearted.

I can feel my blood turning cooler by the second,
knowing it will be a frigid river in time,
flowing through a black, hollowed heart,
emptied out after the memories weren’t enough to live in,
and reality has become too broken to sustain life.

Life breaks down in these solitary moments,
where friendship is further than sorrow,
and even death.

My body shivers,
my blood grows colder,
a collection of parts that form a cold machine,
where the thought of a soul has become a romantic delusion,
because of all the ghosts and dead space that’s left,
after the ghosts of you moved out with another,
and left me vulnerable and broken down,
my natural condition.

july 14, 2009