Red off my Rose

I guess I've lost it all, Every last bit. I've damaged my brain And every night is a fit The red off my rose, The bruises off my back. The flush off my composure (But the painkillers I packed) I sleep with ghosts; I have phantom lovers. They penetrate and linger; Above me, they hover The ghosts of a grave (Of a musty catacomb) My moods come in grey Fossils that roam. The memories haunt But only I see The dead things that live Inside of me I keep them safe Though their fatality suffuses And murders me equally (Only part of me refuses) So maybe my life is still And I live in the past And I lie with spirits That I can't make last They strip me of joy, But also of pain. Bathe me in the blood of a marred life (Catharsis keeps me sane) No fantasy is healthy, And no truth can heal. If you open your eyes, You don't want to feel. So Farewell to reality. There is nothing left of me. Not even (The red off my rose, or the color in my cheeks)