when i was walking
with the ghosts, i got
frustrated, fire
eyed, depressed, because
they didn't
say shit. they
just gaped at me
and showered me in the
sights of the still-tender
skin of their wounds.
they pointed at doorways, hovered
just inches up
the stairs, but i was
too afraid to follow. the attic door
stayed closed, its paint
chipping like
dead skin.