ghostcore
it’s you and me and all left never said expired between us. it’s the drinks reanimating the fringe of lips and the abnegation that makes me drink them down. it’s the cool side of your cheek and the smart flash through mine. once i could raise the past without it haunting us. now it seems shadows stick where no wind blows. you persist spring buds from your tongue while the periwinkle signals my stay of sentence. destitute of vision i cry smoke, smoke but when have you ever stood close enough to feel my fire? what moves me most? i cast the spade more times than i could bear and even then you cheapened my toil with plastic flowers. pay the bill as if considerate but it’s only meant to keep your debt from growing. another martini never hurt me none while it only assures the erasure of your memory.
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Joseph A. Pinto 