Conversations with a ghost not dead.
Lying alone inside this closet
Deep alone inside not dying.
I am waiting big… for something that might
Just fall from heaven but,
Just the sound of something dying.
Just a child alone and frightened.
With dreams of Fathers Punches…
Crushed teeth, fresh bruises…
for he was not behaving.
Making friends with silent shadows
Hiding, too, inside this closet.
Sometimes we can’t breath or see.
Sometimes The Darkness just wants to be seen.
Please… it’s 4 in the morning. Don’t make me hit the streets. So hungry. So tired, and I’m waiting for something to fall from heaven. Again. Not dying.
Lucifer was just mistaken. Forsaken. And shaken. By Thy Father so violent. Then Pushed him, his own son, down from heaven… in hopes that he’d be Forgotten.
“Trust in me, lad, all these words
Are meant to hurt.
They are not from my Father.
We…The abandoned and
The supposed rotten. No, just haunted. We will never be left so helpless.
It’s dark. For good reasons. Not just for me or the heathen.
In dark, you will see the light from You… not from heaven.
Don’t let abuse make you feel not worthy.
Not me. They should be pushed if there is a heaven.
All is not forgiven.
But they will be forgotten.”
This… all whispered from inside this closet.
Soft hands, sweet kisses, true words…
These Conversations with my ghost not dead…
© Carlson 2016