Dear ghost,
My body is the reason why I have a name. It is the very figure that begs to be acknowledged. I am not comfortable in my skin. I am trying to weigh my soul. It should be no less than an ounce but it is there, squeezed between the cells of my existence. The things that I desire to do, cannot be done within this hour, within this day or this month. In fact, this lifetime is not enough. Besides, what is desire but an endless pit of chasm. But this chasm that I have dug, has an echo so alluring. Therefore, I can live only with the song of the chasm.
Yours even as I fear to be.