Living With Dead People

Living with Dead People

I'm living with dead people
They roam, skitter, stomp, and run in the hallways
they cook tasteless food. feeding me with the seasoning of relentless anger
They disturb my most irreplacable thoughts
They command at me. Nost of all, i can hear them. So loud.
Right now they're screaming at me.
Yelling. Banging at my bedroom door.
Looking at me. Shoving their black and brown eyes at me

They're so dead. Faithless. hopeless. And even worse.

Still . Screaming.

I tune them out as much as i could.
Feel my disorders. i doubt you could.

i look up and d o you know what i say silently that you can barely hear? Everything's going to be alright.

This is the part where i accept that i really am a liar.