ghosts

is it just me or is this house getting heavy with history?

in every corner there's a ghost that's whispering to me

there's a ghost in the bedroom crying in the sheets

and all of the skeletons in my closet are grinning through their teeth

i get the feeling i've been feeding fish that don't eat

wrapping nets in empty water and watching them sink

and there are ghosts of my past and my innocence

i don't sleep well to the sound of them tapping their fists

so i stay up to count all the names on my list

and it takes me the night to get through what i miss

and lately my body is sore, from pushing lines and rocky shores,

and wedging my fingers into so many doors

but i want more, i want more, i want more,

so i keep tiptoeing these tightropes in rooms without floors.