ovenbird
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gates and gables. Ghost that speaks through the creak of stairs. Ghost that takes the meat from the fridge and leaves it to rot, a gift for the flies a gift for the time hungry phantasms with their compound eyes. I would rather be haunted than hunted. Every day a seance. I've been dead for years: transparent and filmy and voiceless. Ghosts just want to be seen. I know the feeling.
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250925
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