Sitting in the dark
0:55
A wrinkle on the sheet and that quote from
‘Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?’
I just don’t know where in the world
Is safe from the ghost of your ghost
When will you start haunting me
So we can have our inside jokes
I thought she was giving me your shirt
But she’s just plugging all the holes
That my dad is wearing in
I guess you haunt all his ’new’ clothes
- Vita incerta
The bugs crawl in, the bugs crawl out
What do you look like right now?
The flies keep buzzing round my house
What do you look like right now?
They packed you in with soil and flowers
What do you look like right now?
Your torso sewn up tight and round
What do you look like right now?
Your twinkling eyes all brown, shut down
What do you look like right now?
Your skin was always pale, but now-
What must you look like by now?
- iNtRuSiVe tHoUgHtS
I keep thinking about you when I’m in situations you would normally be. At dinner with our family and friends. When my dad says clever things I don’t understand. Tiramisu and chocolate bread pudding. Your hand in your hair and a snort between each awkward chuckle. I know when I finally go back to that shitty Italian restaurant, where you spoke fluently to the owner about the town you both knew, I will close my eyes to the lights and ask to be excused. I think this is where the myth of haunting began. A pain and guilt and emptiness that follows you around, swallowing your shadow, sinking in your stomach and making the walk home twice as long. Truthfully it never feels like I get home at all. Where was I last year? It feels like I left the planet. Now you’re bound to this planet; your face is not your face. You hands are not your hands. Your body has concaved. You have liquified and melted away. You are disappearing. I am disappearing again.
- I haven’t been back to your grave but every place feels the same
I wish they gave me one of your fleeces
I have nothing of you
I should have taken a book from the pile
but it did not feel like enough
I should have realised nothing would ever feel like enough again.
I have discovered many uglier faces from crying
once a week at least
The salt burns red patches like my brain is punishing me
for giving in to it
for sinking in the dark
for all those months I didn’t see you much
Those months I will never get back
There’s no chance
No restart
Life ruined
Fall apart
