they call me no-name, little ghost and
spirited what-if that runs
and dances among the has-beens and will-be’s.
i have deep holes where
my eyes should be, i have a pulsing sticky
heart where my mouth
should be: I cannot talk,
but I can bleed.
I can not even claim what is mine
as mine; it is not mine,
it was just a game, or gaslighting,
an after-effect of the after-effects of
She is no-one pretending to be no-body,
pretending to be dead. I am not dead
i am just here.