Ghost Flesh

Our eyes are fire, ash and skies,
But our lives rush through our thighs.

We dress in ink, robes, and gowns,
We tat bones and blood with nouns,

But we breathe through what we eat.
Ghosts need skulls, and words need meat.

These wisps of lines meant to mean
Glide through fresh brains once they’re seen,

And then who haunts? Who lives on?
Words worm from flesh once breath’s gone.