stories begin and end with scripts ˑ do you miss me ˑ the watchman 

THERE ARE NO GHOSTS WITHIN THESE WALLS –

THEY KNOW ENOUGH TO KEEP AWAY –

THERE’S JUST THE SILENCE AND THE DRYWALL,

AN ECHO OF AN UNSUNG GRAVE.

THERE ARE NO SONGS HERE TO BE SUNG,

NO TALES COMPLETE ENOUGH TO TELL,

NO LOVE LOST ‘TWIXT DYING SPARKS,

NO ENTRANCE INTO CHAMBERED HEARTS –

THERE ARE NO GHOSTS WITHIN THESE WALLS

ALTHOUGH THEY CREEP ALONG WITH US.

JUST A CURSE THAT HANGS LIKE COBWEBS HERE

AND THERE AMONG THE DUST.

YOU CAN BURN DOWN THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT,

TUMBLE HIS DRY BONES DOWN THE HILL,

YOU CAN TEAR YOUR PAST OUT FROM YOUR VEINS-

-AND GOD KNOWS, I THINK YOU WILL-

BUT THERE ARE NO GHOSTS WITHIN THESE WALLS,

NO SPIRITS HOVERING GRAY,

THERE’S JUST ME, THE BLOOD THAT YOU WON’T CLAIM,

AND HERE IN THIS HOUSE I’LL STAY.

{-AND AFTER ALL THE RAIN AND RUIN

AND THE CLEANSING OF THE STORM –

AFTER THIS, TOO, HAS COME TO PASS-

COME FIND ME. COME BACK HOME.}

Song: Untitled 1 by Keane

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