Luke Kuzmish

1000 ghosts

1000 ghosts haunting
every corner
every gas station

1000 ghosts behind
every locked door

each one of them is me
I know
but it’s nice to be reminded
for distraction’s sake

past lives
walk the streets
strutting
self-destruction
selling
sabotage
with their hands
buried deep
in the pockets of puffy jackets

my eyes wander

my eyes don’t water
they have been wide for days
fearful of the instant
lost to a blink

and the present
from which there is no harbor
found me
shuffling
past the pharmacy
where Dani works
where I pretended
to buy rigs
for someone else
acting
like I needed
to read from my phone
instead of recite from memory

29 gauge
half inch
one CC

six months
past
wondering
if the scars will fade
and
if the ghosts
will ever live again