ghost in designer clothes

Ghost in designer clothes walking through downtown like grief learned fashion etiquette

Black leather jacket hanging off my shoulders like funeral curtains in expensive boutiques

People staring because pain always looks attractive under the right lighting

Nobody realizing the motherfucker beneath the fabric barely feels human anymore

Bitch I spent half my savings dressing wounds nobody could physically see

Silver rings covering hands that shake during quiet moments

Cologne expensive enough to disguise cigarettes and emotional collapse temporarily

Boots heavy as inherited trauma echoing through marble hotel lobbies

I learned early this world respects aesthetics more than honesty

Cry beautifully and they’ll call you deep

Bleed elegantly and they’ll call you art

Die young in perfect lighting and suddenly everybody pretends they understood you spiritually

So I became a ghost in designer clothes

Haunting parties filled with rich kids and artificial intimacy

Standing near balconies overlooking city skylines like fallen angels avoiding eye contact

Champagne sparkling around me while my soul decomposed invisibly beneath the surface

Motherfucker even my smile became luxury branding

Sharp enough for magazine covers

Empty enough for motel mirrors after cocaine and bad decisions

Every laugh rehearsed carefully like scripture recited without belief anymore

The women loved me most when I looked unreachable

That mysterious sadness shit drives people insane

One brunette with diamond tears tattooed near her collarbone whispered you look emotionally dangerous

Nah bitch I just stopped expecting permanence from anybody years ago

She followed me through crowded rooms smelling like vanilla and emotional self harm

Her nails tracing circles on my wrist like occult rituals beneath nightclub lights

Music shaking the walls violent as divine punishment

Bodies grinding together searching for salvation through temporary friction

I kissed her slowly beside the bathroom sink

Mirror reflecting two lonely souls pretending lust equals connection

Her lipstick stained my mouth crimson as sacrificial wine

For a second we looked holy inside all that darkness

Then she asked what happened to you

And suddenly the whole atmosphere collapsed inward

Because how the fuck do you summarize years of abandonment and spiritual exhaustion casually

How do you explain becoming emotionally homeless while still technically alive

So I just shrugged

That modern male defense mechanism

That quiet little coffin men carry everywhere instead of vulnerability

She nodded like she understood anyway

Outside the club the city breathed cold smoke into the night sky

Luxury cars sliding through wet streets smooth as predatory thoughts

Homeless men sleeping beneath glowing advertisements selling watches worth more than their entire existence

This whole world feels demonic if you stare long enough

Ghost in designer clothes

Walking contradictions wrapped in expensive fabric

Trying to hide ugly memories beneath tailored silhouettes and gold chains

Trying to look valuable enough for somebody to stay permanently

My ex used to steal my hoodies after sex

Said they smelled like safety and cigarettes

Funny how people romanticize your darkness until they experience it consistently

Funny how quickly fascination turns into emotional fatigue

Now every outfit feels like armor instead of self expression

Every accessory another distraction from the emptiness underneath

I wear black because mourning became part of my personality eventually

Because darkness stains less visibly on dark fabric

Fuck I remember crying in a penthouse bathroom once

Music booming through walls while strangers celebrated outside

I stared at my reflection beneath gold chandeliers and marble countertops

Thinking money really doesn’t heal shit when your spirit already fractured years ago

Still I walked back out smiling perfectly

Complimented strangers

Bought drinks

Played the role everybody expected from me

That’s the curse of becoming aesthetically broken

People stop asking if you need help because your suffering looks intentional

Your loneliness becomes style

Your depression becomes mystery

Your silence becomes charisma instead of warning signs

The girl from earlier found me smoking alone near the alleyway

Cold wind moving through her hair like soft catastrophe

She asked if I ever feel real anymore

That question hit harder than any insult ever could

Because truthfully

Most days I feel like performance art stitched together with nicotine and unresolved grief

A hologram wearing human skin convincingly enough to avoid concern

A ghost in designer clothes wandering through luxury environments searching for meaning in all the wrong places

We stood there silently while sirens echoed somewhere distant

Her hand warm against mine for one fragile moment

Two damaged strangers connected briefly beneath nightclub neon and polluted stars

Beautiful enough to hurt

Then she left without goodbye

Just disappeared back into the crowd like smoke returning to fire

And I stayed outside alone

Watching my reflection in dark storefront windows

Expensive jacket

Heavy jewelry

Perfect posture

Dead eyes

A ghost in designer clothes

Still haunting himself long after everybody else stopped noticing the possession