day137 - see right through you

everytime I promote my work on social media i can't help but look inbetween the names of my few consistently supportive friends. I scan crowds for the faces of people whose funerals I've attended. it's a necromancer's life, watching the dead walk among the living with neither party knowing any better. granted you can make the case that if I'm the only one who can see the difference, my perspective is the aberrant one. old friends are a finite resource but I have ghosts in abundance. whether I see them or not, I feel them watching everything I do. some keep their distance out of disgust or disdain but others enjoy watching the colour drain from my face when they appear, unexpectedly. I miss them all anyway no matter how cruel their last words were. No matter how they treated me in life. it's self-important to ascribe cosmic significance to it. A twenty-something mentally ill transsexual is not the new lamb of God. If she were you'd hope at least she'd make better art. she doesn't even…