Ghosts

One might think 
that after so
many I’d stop
but this lust 
it carries me 
forward be my
search for morsels
or mushrooms or 
morals hidden below 
beneath or behind 
dig and rut
ruthlessly I do 
nails now ground 
down to fingers
and these very 
things never found 
perhaps never been 
except in mind 
such are ghosts