I am a Ghost...

Two eyes of utterance 

can't stand to be seen

in a the shuttering of disabled...

I  know where I stand.

Disabled in the search 

for the meta-for of mail.

It is gone... the last connection,

and cigarettes to boot,

a lasting impression,

one who hates the snark,

the other who won't see

the writing on the wall...

remembering the music.

The light is perfect

in an uncanny shine

of keyboard memories...

the smell of charred meat

will meet the glowing

of the unsuspecting

guest... 

I know i am dead... 

the haunting will last 

til whenever...