My mind is filling up with ghosts, chains rattling, screams sagging under the weight of too much, like rocks gathering by the pocketful, sinking like anchors, collecting dust like stacks of notes in my junk drawer left unread. They found me when I least expected it, ghosts have a knack for knowing how to get under your skin. The memories sting and it rocks me to my core to see them so rawly, like freshly scraped knees. The taste leaves notes of vinegar, lost things that shouldn’t be found
Notes
After “Ghosts Under Rocks” by Ra Ra Riot.