In the attic
is a photo of you gathering dust
as many others accumulate
around it
these are brighter
technicolor
i may even be in them
i look like
ive never known you
that one impossible detail
a certain wrinkle on my head
the slight crease that curves itself
over one of my eyes
brings forth signs of the weight
that the photo still brings
and the healing from the sickness
that still simmers in the circumvent
keeping by the rules of exorcism
that I wrote for myself
specter jester magics have no audience here no more
cursed relics in an ancient journal
and you no doubt still hiding yourself in there
salt and slap the wound
cast out in the flume
rinse repeat in june
maybe sooner
i turned you face down
and left my lot
gave the space to those who needed sleep
and thankfully never saw you
sometimes i will return
and sleep up here myself
ill feel your silent scream
and remember
all you must be holding
all that may have spilt out
after i concurred what came before
had been enough
all that may still be waiting
the longer you lie flat
the longer i can too
the longer you stay silent
the louder you become
keeping by the rules of exorcism
that I wrote for myself
specter jester magics have no audience here no more
cursed relics in an ancient journal
and you no doubt still hiding yourself in there
salt and slap the wound
cast out in the flume
rinse repeat in june
maybe sooner
ill leave the roof hatch open some nights
and wake up soaked with rain
just to remind you of the dryness
you have come to realize
and that scream i hear from you
sounds a lot like my own
I'm keeping myself busy
and it looks like you also might
I'm healing from your sickness
what are you healing from, though?
keeping by the rules of exorcism
that I wrote for myself
specter jester magics have no audience here no more
cursed relics in an ancient journal
and you no doubt still hiding yourself in there
salt and slap the wound
cast out in the flume
rinse repeat in june
maybe sooner
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