From the Mouth of a Ghost

When I I the knife I my loss I the knife, and I the blood and I the dark my loss the dark the hall the floor the blood the dark the feet stamp away away away and I I alone. Water trickle blood dry took the me from me and now I the stairs creaky step no step no foot creak. Flower paper droop I the crumble the plaster the wood how long I am I;  bulb dark and wind through sharp I am how long am long.

Alone the knife since I I the knife, me my blood gone with the feet away away I the knife. Forever for roof of rain of alone of and but work light white yellow shirt cigarettes cigarettes am I I but alone but why the noise but why the knife. Feet away and yet back away not the feet not the blood not my ceiling I did not stark white ceiling I did not red blood sandpaper texture empty again quiet again.

My walls where my walls were my my walls no more lights so bright where my walls, where my hands no, no more, the knife I I me from me; no hands. Alone again until here they’re gone. One what is how long it is until he sniffs the paint sniffs me; I am nothing they are gone house is empty.

Until. The noise my ears no ears but I the noise. How dare boxes how dare mess clean shoes where the blood. Back you’re back he’s back the blood the knife. Not again; no away-await the dark but the lights but await but the dark I I will. Not my hands: the mirror. Shardened wide the crash the noise the man he is, he is awake. See me see the blood the knife the blood see me; search-eyes no see me no, no, no. Where am I if not see me? The blood the knife.

Hello greeting me I as if not away as if the rain not the blood but where to greet; but oh a question. No I am not, but hands my hands, my not. All my nails all his yelp all his turn for blood for scratch but his eyes–blue, blue, blue, blue, blue for not brown– wrong, but how return the knife the feet. Scratch and wail and throw my house my wind my storm. Yet the feet yet the eyes yet the blood his blood rather not away but hands up plead to who to who to me to who? Blue not brown. Why to beg to me to me my storm I can’t but I I the blood the knife.

Leave to leave the walls through no wind no. But who if not the knife away away. I alone I the house I I the night the sun when the sun, the man; gentle footsteps no the noise the stamp away away. Instead toward, toward what, no the hands the ears toward the wind the blood. Lips flutter to eyes blue, blue shine the light. Him not him the knife him the lips. My wind soft no fury my wind the neck soft no blood. My laugh just wind, my hands just wind, his hands the neck the eyes open window but no but no just the wind just the me. My laugh.

His lips my lips the wind enough, the wind enough solid for lips my lips. The eyes close none the blue the brown the blood no no the wind the lips. The tongue to stab my laugh the knife but wind but wet. His hand the eyes flutter no no more the blue but the brown the knife the wind I I the storm am the storm his boxes mine, the wind.

The blue return am I some tornado no settle the blood the knife no the blue; I am the calm; I am the port. Shame cheeks flushed no cheeks the me from me but I I away the walls. No lips no wind in the night he wanders words are words but I am not the blood the knife no. He is not the knife but I I the blood the feet away away who is he–blue-not-brown– but the hand the dark none the blue only dark dark dark the blood the knife.

White light window black sky. Stamp he is back stamp the knife, this time wind; this time fury. Not again the knife raise him up the knife: cut his hands: cut his heart: in the dark I I nothing again. His blood now; I the knife he the throat, cut to end. Moonlight sunshine the blue, the fool I I the fool the fool. An end to wind to fury when the night is the night I the blood no the blue the shine moon of moon no. Clothing torn gentle wind soothe no wounds I the fool did not; almost the fool the fool the blood I the knife almost; scratch and trickle but the blue the shine the smile of soft wind so close the fool. 

Prickle skin soft the hand up gentle the wind gentle press against solid. Cotton the floor his skin shoulders wide gentle wind the neck the lips again, again. Solid soft I I push the lips tongue wet in wind I feel the body not my body the me from me but the wind oh the wind. Wrap the legs feet not stamp away away. Hairs the wind bristle rough skin tan his lips my lips my wind. All the floor his wide my reach around around and close I I his arms aloft hug but what, but me, but what. His lips his tongue my wind his wet my wind. Stiff below in the wind signpost rattle. No before no the blood the knife but different no the knife only the stiff. 

Wrap gentle firm my the mouth the wind no mouth me from me but gentle firm. Sound of him; wound but no for pleasure. I am pleasure; I am the wind of shape for mouth for hips but what hips what mouth: distant shadows light long gone. Pleasure soft for him him moan trace of wind on chest little hairs tangled grass of field. Close blue not brown still not brown no fury no storm draw me up to me my wind control to body no body me from me but wind.

His neck my grace his hair breeze hold myself tight around stiff and pulse I am held I am whole; hole; his passive no more no his hands wave for me not found wind but thrust stiff the wind oh my me I am of stiff of thrust more more more. His wind of muscle stones beneath water strong hold but not held I I me from me but held. Stab of pleasure no the knife but stiff no the blood stab more stab more again again. His mouth tight eyes wrenched blue not brown breath so fast like feet away away but trying closer to me. Gentle power; stones; more stab more thrust wind tight tight I am me I am wind tighter better for more: for more: for more. My me me me me.

Fading grace and weakening wind and a scattered white held among the me. By me my wind weakens in and I see the blood the knife. I am gone, me from me, long long ago. 

I am a tangled breeze, and finally I can unravel.