crooked angle

i kept on lingering.
       smiling.
 my crooked teeth set
in a crooked path.
      "from this angle,
 you look like a crooked angel."
but i would have none of that.
   the weight of eternity
  sits on my eyes, it rests
         on my head.
when i bleed it's eternal blood
  and my feet are golden.
"from who's garden did you grow?"
 the rabbits
     they are stealing
from out of the cellar.
     they are
   tying white ribbons to old oak trees
 right when you're climbin'-
    i didn't want to be
     your ghost.
    i didn't want to be
 anyone's ghost.