Writing, Ideas, & Stories
in the highest coop
waiting;
not for a court date
egg to hatch
or a the crosshair to bleed red,
for the wind to shift.
for the softest landing around our ankles,
it wasn’t a ruling
a spoiled omlet
or an assassination,
a request to breathe.
so we wait,
in this coop,
for the wind to shift.
they keep coming; to room 306-
they checked in, locked the door, and dissapeared-
they order room service, but no one is their to pick it up
they call it ghost
hunters come with their cameras
leave ith empty pockets
all to see room 306.
i’ve seen him, not a they, a he
he comes late and leaves early
he orders food just before he arrives
he doesn’t communicate anymore
just a being
exisiting in a shell
the hunters were so close
to catching a real ghost
chances are
this is the last time i’ll see you;
face wiped away
like steam off a mirror
was never you
just me
alone,
this isn’t a goodbye
just a memory wipe
hardware error
when you speak
four o four
memory not found
had to start this way
fresh start
kind of
expatriation date is still the same
just a new shelf life
Saint's Muse 