There is a haunting to this house only I know
For only I have been its witness
A collection of heirlooms too loud for the living-room wall.
Spirits in a bottle…minus a cork.
Slices of life severed with a knife.
Everyday a tour of ghastly duty…showered by the tears I cry.
An a-sexual ghost feeding off the body of the host.
The consequences?
Never just the forest or the tree.
Sometimes…they are more familiar to behind the scenes.
Just piney implants of somebody I used to know.
Enticing trails of northern life…gone awry.
Amid what we say…
And, the truth that we leave for another day.
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