My body has always been home
to the ghosts that wander and haunt its halls
a collection of fragmented emotions
left over wishes
and things I have yet to give a face to

they burn in my stomach, wail through my veins
rattling my bones as they settle in
producing a church bell melody
that pushes its way out through my throat
like sand pouring out of the faucet

it pools around my ankles
preventing me from following the procession
as it approaches the open casket
of whichever ghostly reflection
I have saw fit to exorcise this time

but he'll perform
over and over and over
and over and over and
over and over and over
and over and over

I've performed this wake so many times now
I can trace the soot lines of candles up my wall
and the passages have worn through
under guiding fingers
but this is a sinner's requiem
the guests refuse to leave
and the priest is unordained

until the rites become something
of his own making, the passages are handwritten
and the halls of this body are finally filled
with the hymns of a ghostly choir
that will forever call this body home