counting all the ghosts...
counting all the ghosts…

 

Days are stretching out
never seem to end
melancholy bleeds like water
through cupped hands
nights seem to blend
sleeplessness, my friend
hollow the words to explain
slips the mind into the drain

Tell me do you feel numb
are you counting all the ghosts…
inside

we’re all masked, finally
in a world, hunger for tragedy
all locked in
canaries in a mine
(and damned if we breathe
damned if we don’t)

Tell me do you feel numb
are you counting all the ghosts…
inside

(c) 2020 Allen Wolfie Simpson
Been listening to a lot of Placebo and David Bowie. They inspire this poem.

Note to reader: I was actually in a good mood when writing this, my muse is just a little dark today