poem – Ghosts

You never know what kind of ghosts you are going to meet. Some only come out at night. Some are less discreet. Some fade into the background. Some feed on our fear. Some are like objects in the mirror. They are closer than they appear. Some mess with the temperature. Some rearrange the shelves. Some of them get so bored they start to haunt themselves. Some of them keep their distance. Some try to earn our trust. After a while some of them start to look like us.


The cage is small, but I can move around. All the windows greet me. All the walls keep their distance. Only time is talking, but I am not listening. I an sparking what I can and avoiding the chaos to the best of my ability, remembering what it was like to live without thinking of living at all.


I had to make

a god or two

for a little mercy

when i found

it was not enough

i decided

to make it three

before long

i was up to four

and still

i found no peace

i made a sixth

and then a seventh

and my suffering


an eighth, a ninth

a tenth and yet

not a one would do

i set aside

the gods i made

and put my faith

in you.