My voice is eulogized in rooms and hallways
as I enchant ceaseless whispers
and guide them to dart among splintered remains of lost echoes.

My words will haunt the building’s final occupants
like a siren song
–irresistable and deadly–
Something to witness.

My soul’s astral projection
–a self-chosen extraction–
coincides with, as life would have it,
an endless sound wave upon which my messages travel.
I spit braided communications from my ghostly tongue
without caution.

The textured sounds shake off the sticky saliva,
cling to your ear,
and burrow through years of accumulated thick yellow wax
to form an undetectable perforation
that will keep you scratching at the ache you deserve.
Now that’s worth celebrating.