You Can't See Me

The jasper swelled from where feathers sprung
to the size of gasping breathes took upon
ghosts cellophane telephoning my apartment
I swung free the door hinges
as to welcome in the poltergeists
but found myself so yellow I was orange
transparent as a spirit myself
a host hazel assumed neglected
the remnants reflection of fireworks
to the back side of floorboards and shelf
a nervous creaking sound a breeding ground
a mound crafted from the wood shavings
and kindling that once was my home
and viewing point for the singes singing strings
now only fuel for the hunger of my ghostly brethren
spark toothed and angling fervent
a mistake sewn too late
I was ripped apart by the memory of my torment

oh how I cried for a chance
for what I claimed a right to overstep the threshold
of my spaciously overpopulated inferno
from the inside to external mount abode collapsible
I denied the lie intent remappable
I'm just the fuck out for a 2/6
and a bottle of cream soda we can use as mix
I'ma cop from the neighbors house
so don't worry bout pitching
keep your flaming benjamins
for breakfast in the morning
'cause by then I'll be devoid
of all known dollars and cents
inhibitions and recompense
from this hangover moment
I'll wear my soul on the outside as a warning
I've learnt so much about where demons reside
not stone still they travel with the beautiful fates
in the misconstrued clockwork faces of omens
in the poetry I have yet to write to spite all things
postdated erased and only when I say so stolen

I'm only visible when I let you see me
though the sun glares off'a my ghostly teeth
in the poetics seething that's not me and a pen
breathing but dejavu off your 6 side sneaking
and those are the only glances you get for free
so take the time to appreciate the appreciation
I have for that though you can't see me
I could let you if I was feeling just as I appreciate
you could see me any way if you were needing

wheeling heated in case of metamorphosis
congregated longly a lone am I? dice less
gimmick free I no longer have anything to hide
try this on for size varies depending on what room
the back draftery apparitions beseech would I
lend my airy conscientious to any weaponry
or words deterred off might of the truth be heard
freedom of speech becomes secondary
when another conscious fire and teeth
subside drip into inside of all of me revived
so this is what it's like to exist without living
this is what they meant by an ocean of seedlings
taking appendages amending no real consensus
as to the dimensions or composition of my mindscape
as I've written before so I will scribble again
is there an emotive motive not biased towards
a hard lust whether all loving or brazen sore?
is there a poet inside me that is not a metaphor?
what becomes of my loneliness?
my solitude is done for
whatever ends that means
I assume the position of a
tremulant's waxed offering throat chord
waning / a sigh of relief
I am thankful for my potential for understanding
my opacity is not without heart scars
fluctuates my jaw phonetically
flash in the shown sun dark
picks me out a single fluttering orb
take me or leave me my solitude is done for
whatever ends that means waxing / waning
maybe never beginning or ever ending
a sigh of relief / whatever that means

my solitude is done for