the ghost inside was sick


letting on and letting go–
i am an emptied-out river-sick
ghost. i live inside of myself
like it is my only home.
each drop of dew, each blade of grass,
each morning again, anew,
i am tracked by my own longing
and listlessness, my desire
to be one of those you love, the few.
i am darkened like tinted windows,
swelling with virginia humidity
on carolina sand. i feel my love
rubbed between my fingertips
like it is a treasure i cannot taste.
i take the train into the next state.
i tear my love up into pieces
and spread it out at the river bank,
something for the animals to eat
and anticipate. i want to be sedentary.
it is important to feel worth something
but i can’t remember what that means.
i ride endless routes where the light
defines the direction of the train,
some darkening shift of rain,
my mind now a dampened rotting place.
i am erased. i am all love in the worst way.
i am longing for some sickening form
of something to breathe, something to say.