How There Got to be Ghosts in the City

Daisy's picture

--- Okay so, I wrote this piece yesterday and I feel kinda weird about it 'cause for like two years all my stuff has been this spiraling spoken word performance stuff, and lately I've been doing more like, regular poems? Blah. Anyway, I'm all insecure and bizarre about this one, so if anybody feels like commenting or suggesting or anything, I'd appreciate it. Thanks, kids. ---

How There Got to be Ghosts in the City

The first thing that we noticed was the smell.

And then the color
fading from our cheeks,

our lips
going gray.

They say there’s no point
in trying to fight it.

He spreads his fingers, saying,
Nothing is real to me.

The heat sweeps across us like fire.

All the liars
have been executed for their crimes, which leaves

no one.

Everybody’s a liar, dear.

You said it to me softly
like you were trying to remind me

that it wasn’t my fault

This city kills.
This city’s a killer.

Nothing is real.

She says,
Can’t you see me?

His reply is cold like the old bones
that they found beneath the parking lot.

The rot penetrates our flesh like termites through wood.

Your insistent eyes stare back at me
through the open window.

You’re saying,

I’ve loved you before,
I will love you again.

The implication is
of course

that you don’t
love me now.


friedrice11's picture

i can not be around you coz

<<2 B a rock n Not 2 roll>>
i can not be around you coz God knows it hurts n i can not be without you coz its much much worse

shit thats fukn i good i rekon. its heaps deep and yeah strong imagery to portay this fucked up world i really like it aye.