Just watching the world wondering around looking for a place I can call home a place where I can become whole again.
I fooled myself into thinking I had a body because I knew that people saw me.
I realized they rather not interact with me unless it was to further their own story; there it was I’m the POV.
I seen the beauty of the world but I only passed through it. Ms. Pacman takes another soul, and body to be replaced then encased in a mask, a shield or case. Walking lifeless from place to place.
I’m just teary eyes waiting to be healed, man. I swear that box is sealed of course I’d be a camera man.
I can only watch the glamour man, wanted to take my eyes to damper the lights rather than suicide but I’m already dead. Lead astray right away when I read it would be OK a letter from the living saying I’ll be breathing one day.
That’s fine, but until then I need to graduate to being a ghost again because right now I am a voiceless narrator.
– Isom Jacobs
Have you ever felt like everyone liked you but no one stayed? The maze where all the ghost roam before eaten seems chaotic. Place this on a larger scale and we are vagrants wondering the world until love finds us, eats us, then spits us out.
Ghost of the street
Where do ghost roam when it’s tired?
When everyone has looked passed him?
Where does one retire?
When aspiring spirits lost it’s spiritual hymn
It’s not this box…
I leave my box when the walls are bright
I wonder around best when the sky is as black as the street is dirty
iris ever so bright, floating eyes such a beautiful sight
Go back to your cage and become whole little birdie
like a wilted rose
the eyes just stay lost, listless, broken with blight…