Songs for Ghosts - I
I’ve been clawed from dreams of crashes,
left pinball spun
with scorched fingers. There is no break
between the sirens and silence, I’m able to
count the seconds before the screams
kick in.
The moon is a fluorescent tube, eighteen watts
and inconsistent.
All we have are memories of ghosts. All we have
are phantoms forcing us to recite the past. Nine
days into the first lunar month and I have no
rituals.
Even maps of streets breathe pollution,
in an atlas
Beijing is just soot and smoke. Someone
wrote ‘you are here’ on the blueprints, and I
knew they weren’t talking to me. I never loved
this place.
by Aaron Kent - @GodzillaKent - more info HERE