this tiny room
where I talk to the hungry ghosts
of my past
they rail at me
and gnash their teeth
I've been a dozen different people
in this life
and I'm only 37--
or 15
if you don't count all those years of insanity
I tell my past selves to fuck off
same to you they tell me
the phone rings
if it's God I'll tell him to go fuck
his mother
I get up and start to walk round the room
and talk to myself.
About Ross Vassilev:
Ross Vassilev is a born loser and a poet. He's from Bulgaria and somehow ended up in Ohio. His work has been published at Camel Saloon, Dead Snakes, My Favorite Bullet and other fine zines, both online and in print. You can read more of his poems at http://rossvassilev.blog.com/.
It's good to see work by Ross no matter how he's feeling. I saw a different poem the other day and his spirits were higher. He produced two of the finest ezines on the net--Opium and Asphodel Madness. Long may he rant. I remember being 37 and for me as well it was not a good time at all. Somehow things got better.
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