Ghost of me.

In a night of ghosts I lay writing with my blood:
As there’s no more alcohol to calm the storms in my head,
I’m waiting like a homeless dog waits for a master to take it home,
For an inspiration for my heart beat.
As I look the smoke going out of my mouth,
My hands are still trembling with no sense of what is real,
As I have no sense of what I feel,
Everything I could read said:

Aren’t you ashamed?
Where is now your faith?
Weren’t you supposed to stand in dignity ‘till the end?
Look at you now,
What are those tears about?
Do you even care?

And all I said was ‘no’.

All the sweet smells, all the crazy things, every memory seems stoned down in ground by now,
All the creepy smiles, all the wounds of pain, nothing but the sorrow seems to fill now my brain.
Where have I gone? How could I forget? All I can say by now is:

Aren’t you ashamed?
Where is now your faith?
Weren’t you supposed to stand in dignity ‘till the end?
Look at you now,
What are those tears about?
Do you even care?

I just know I don’t know.

Night has called my name,
Now I’m nothing but a ghost,
Where could I have gone?

I look over my shoulders,
All I've left behind:
There’s no more night.