The Ghost in the Tree

 

 

 

 

Listen to Suggested Audio

Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross “On We March”

 

 

Pinch me

 

Am I real

 

Can you discern a pulse in my chest
Is it faint

 

Is its tempo quaint

 

Do you sense polite restraint

 

I feel

Faint

 

Weightless
Stateless

 

Wistful in my thinking
Blissful as I’m
Sinking

 

Eyes wide shut as I’m blinking

 

Neither here nor there

 

But everywhere
All at once

 

Pinch me

 

Am I real

 

Does my blood not congeal

 

Just how raw must I deal

 

Do these tears count for nothing
are my ducts simply bluffing

 

I’m open for discussion
a musky book bound in
Jagged Barb

 

Skim reading at best
Compulsive at worst

 

Why do my words blur
are they being deferred

 

Are my lines that absurd
Cannot just you concur

 

Am I seen if not heard

 

Pinch me

 

Am I real

 

Is this pain that I feel
How much blood should I spill

 

Will I heal

 

Are those clouds rolling in at my feet

 

Why else would the balance have shifted

 

Am I lifted

 

 

Is this elevation
or just one last indignation

 

Melancholic migration

 

I don’t even know which way I am facing

 

Then again

 

Pinch me

 

I’m real

 

I can breathe
I can feel

 

Blow a kiss
Form a scowl

 

I can roar
I can prowl

 

I can leap from the dark
I can weep from the bark

 

I can withstand the storm
I can rise from this Fall

 

I’m a crisp autumn breeze
I’m the ghost in the tree

 

Can you see me

 

 

 

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