my albatross.

too many skeletons to fit in my closet. I had to give them a room of their own. now they keep me awake at night with the rattling of their bones. I can't go anywhere in this town without the fear of meeting an escapee. I can't go anywhere without wondering how I'll react if I see one.
too many skeletons. they took over. now I sleep on the couch. they wake me up at 6am and won't let me get any rest. they invade my dreams with their lipless grins. always shaking, always moving, always jitter, jitter, jitter. can't sleep with the noise. the irony is they don't even mean it. they're just being skeletons. it's my perception that's the problem.
so many skeletons, can't make them go away. they won't leave of their own volition. there's no reason. they have a good time here, chattering their jaws, never sleeping, a whole apartment to occupy. entire lives to ignore into ruin.
I'd like to shake you, skeletons, and grind your bones into powder. I'd like to fill the drains with your remains and laugh as you trickle to the sewer. You'd get filtrated and strained and made into something useful. Something without memories or names. I'd like to crunch you, break you, stomp you, scream.
You persist because I let you.
I don't know how to kick you out.
I don't know how to let you go.