By Leili Anassori
I am the specter’s negative,
the ghost tale gone awry.
I’ve been yanked from the land of the living,
but I have not been sentenced to die.
I haunt the house of my childhood,
able to look but not to touch,
as the world speeds by me progressing
at a pace I’ve no chance to keep up.
Maybe the reaper took me then returned me,
but put all of my pieces back wrong.
Something vital he stole away with him –
the fuel that allows my life to go on.
The desire to do does not leave me.
I step out into the world as I am,
but we are no longer compatible.
I’m thrown back to my haunt with a slam.
My solid form holds me hostage,
eyes trained on a world that’s not mine.
Burdened by its unmeetable requirements,
yet still burns the will to survive.
So I fashion a life on my shadow plane,
scavenging droplets of joy where I can.
To find meaning in this endless in-between
is not a feat meant for mere mortal man.
I beseech the Olympians of science
to avenge this unnatural theft.
Return to me my living force
while I still have some time left.