A true story.
I’ve had ghosts come visit me while I’m sleeping my whole life. One night I was sleeping, with Shelsea in bed beside me. A ghost came to my side of the bed and said to me over and again, “Brice…psst, Brice…” I was dead fucking tired, and when I’m dead fucking tired, there’s nothing that is going to get between me and sleep. I hate these ghosts. They just keep me up when I’m trying to take care of myself and rest. I rolled away from the ghost and ignored its annoying ass.
The next morning, Shelsea sat up in bed, looked at me and said, “there was a ghost in the room last night. It kept bugging me, telling me that it needed your attention.” I told Shelsea “I know, I told it to leave me alone.” “Weren’t you curious what it had to say to you?” said Shelsea. “Not really,” I told her, “It’s always some ghost nonsense,” and that’s the truth.
day #17 of #nationalpoetrymonth | Cover image: Safal Karki