There exists an itch // nestled in our brains // calling for destruction // but violent vicissitudes alone // won’t subdue it // It craves the infestation of our core // On its command // we allow ourselves // to follow a sordid aroma // into the one corner // of our homes // where light never touches // We lap at this manufactured darkness // with dry tongues // just to know how death tastes // It is in this corner // I found // the soundtrack of a haunted home

Side A:

1. a song for the dead eyes of a child left behind
2. in the distance a mother sings, slowly
3. the pit in your stomach has grown into an orchard
4. someone has come to chop you down
5. an oppressive silence

Side B

1. purple nailbeds six feet on the rise (clawing madly)
2. a noise best digested with fingers pressed firmly in your ears
3. an unspoken whimper, aged 13 years in your tender throat
4. footsteps of a familiar foe
5. a lullaby for someone else

And as the last chord struck my ears // I realized the haunting had left // the home and buried itself between my molars // And every word I spoke thereafter // would possess a frequency // only other ghosts could hear.

 

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Kassandra Kum is a poet living in a small town in New York. Now a recent graduate with a BA in English, she spends her free time pursuing her hobbies such as: borrowing books from the home of every person she’s ever met, perfecting a brooding stare in a coffee shop, and sighing woefully on her front porch during a thunderstorm.