Casper engulfed by my rotting flesh

nothing's real, just memories

guesses as to how I'm supposed to act

in this in-between scene that's become my life

A creature of habit, stealing my fill

another Brer Rabbit whose lost the thrill

of a beautiful tomato, picked fresh

and how it used to smell just off the vine

A future served heirloom pink

waiting to be swallowed

into another carcass to serve a purpose

that all I can do is trust in my bones

that it is trustworthy, but

I'm afraid I can't help you

it's a matter of principle

I don't make deals with ghosts