The Absence of Light

THE ABSENCE OF LIGHT

The walls grow white with moss,

As the cold wind blows in,

The lights flicker and crackle,

And your ghost floats in.

You're not a hologram I want to mess around with,

To see whether my fist passes your heart through,

You're a low tune in the darkness,

That tries to give hope to the living,

Only to make it evident,

That reality is worth your squishing.

So you create a vacuum and I'm left contemplating somewhere in the middle,

A paranormal noise, the sucking of silence,

An aluminum can crushing under pressure,

That the noise that once cursed the existence of living,

Suddenly feels worth a try.

And the walls grow into habitats,

Of pigmented saprophytes pushing limits,

The room becomes an ecosystem,

Of millions of experiments that tell it it's crushing,

The walls are now full of moss,

And the cold wind is all there is.