Be merciful,
say death!
It is a plea that I am screaming
from this place.
It is the kind of scream
we dream about as children,
where you scream as loud as you can
but no sound comes out.
And no tears either.
There is no one there to save you.
And there is no mercy given.
And so, I have died;
without actually dying.
I am a ghost now;
in a body that everyone around me seems to know.
I am a ghost
walking through the corridors
of an unfinished life.
Where unfinished business
seeps like blood
through the wallpaper.
Why did fortune favor Julius Caesar?
It is better to have died
like he did,
than to have lived
like I did.
I pine for the weapons of the past.
They are far more honest.
They do not divorce
the truth of the body
from the truth of the self.
This body is not my body.
My body is hidden in this house I am now haunting,
It was death by a thousand cuts.
Its blood is seeping through the wallpaper.
There is no greater unfinished business
than to be finished
by those who professed to love you.
By those who carried the pearl of your trust
in their hands.
I am a ghost now.
Bereft of the mercy of death.
Lost for what to do
with my unfinished life.
