Skeletons

The skeletons in my closet won't stop rattling their bones. I can't sleep through the incessant sound of ghosts calling out to me reminding me of things i don't want to remember.
Constantly hearing voices, talking, mumbling. I hear enough mouths chattering all day long, why can't i escape it when I’m alone?
I suppose in order to be an artist you must be disturbed. I'm always disturbed. But I’m not an artist.
Just another fucked up thing to add to the list.
Everything that is a considered a solid thought is immediately followed by an equal contradictory thought. Nothing follows the same path, so how am I supposed to stay on the right path?
It's that feeling when you've just said the total wrong thing and the air around you fills with awkwardness so thick you almost can't breathe.
Followed directly by the silence that feels like it lasts hours, but is really only seconds.
If all the good people die young, then why would I want to live long and grow old with the bad people?

~2005