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Ghosts of those I love live in the corners of my eyes.
I take them everywhere.
Forever out of reach.
They lead me to this place.
To this mouth of hell.
Haunted by unrelenting dread.
Drowning in the dead.
Gasping for a breath.
I want out of this place.
Fingers caught in tangled hair.
Sweet floral smell of death.
Flies dance on a cataract.
I dance with them.
They keep me safe.
In this place I am loved.
In this place I am not.
In this place I am loved.
In this place I am the carrier of corpses.

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