This is... It's the weather for it.
It feels like I could successfully contact the dead.
It's the end of November and fallen leaves on the ground
are easily read.
Winter season brings a haunting to resilience. Or resilience to a haunting.
I'm not meaning through a performative medium.
Guests unconvinced by a knock, cloth or breath on neck.
I've got laudanum.
The house has sharp, cold, air in it. My father died in this room.
It feels like I could successfully contact the dead.
By myself, I don't intend to converse because it's memories
I've come to resurrect.
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