Ghost Steps

Eugene Hammond's Ramshackle Black Packard

We’re truly nowhere now,
and there is no fight for who’s king.
Through a tear in two souls crawls
the shapelessness of this dream.
I lay down in the sun to spring leaks,
when in pours my weight in dead fruit,
under which the ground gives way.

Soothed by some bittersweet happenstance,
I am confused but come to no harm.
If you’ll excuse me, I seem to’ve lost count,
but oh, don’t I know just how you are?

You’ve hung upon these dirty white walls for so long,
like some sorrow stitched tapestry.
Like some sweet, vivid, sorrow stitched tapestry.

I’ve hung on these dirty white walls for so long,
like some vivid, sorrow stitched tapestry.
With the weight of dead wings
doth thine spirit sink into mine own.