Ghost Of The Gas Station

There is a place I haunt every night at around three

I go to the counter and attempt to be seen

But I’m just a ghost who breathes in empty air

And blows out smoke,

Knees bent squatting by the army green dumpsters

Every pull my last toke

I am the last enthusiastic consumer of that which

Heals in its harming,

And lifts great weight in its rapturous burden

I am the hole in your pocket in which

No common cents can long linger,

But forever stays in its monotonous

Drip

I am an intangible object,

And therefore, cannot be held or released

I’ll purchase my grave,

But I don’t live there yet,

Because I am ghost

And I take what I can get

If you thought this was alright, you can buy a whole book of my poetry here.

Dirt Witch Records