Poema di un Campo

 My heart is a field of sown ghosts
Spirits rustling through the grass grown tall 
The muddied bodies of everyone I've ever left linger here 
Growing into faded memories. 

In the shaded trees of context and the thicketed thorns of circumstance, 
My heart is an entangled field of ghosts.
My love is a graveyards somberness under an open starlit sky. 
A garden of natural paths untread and forgotten. 

I am a ghost sown in the field of my own heart
A regenerate bloom of self destruction.