my phantoms are reemerging. i was so close. ...so close. even dug all the necessary catacombs. shoveled and slopped little piles of tear drenched dirt out of me. gazed at them--grinning and empty. my own flesh muddied and glimmering in the moonlight, nearly mummified. but i became the robber of my own graves. i can bury and bury all i want--completely void myself, if i wanted to. but i'll always be haunted by my own ghosts. they will linger in the crevices i can never reach, furtively germinating a complex of soul molesting roots. sprouting visions of you, as i watch myself wilt.