Kafka is a dead sod et toute cette putasserie

On the 9th day, I received an e-mail from a ghost. A very charming ghost, I have to admit.
The message read:

a ghost
grinning
with six corroded bites
and
a broken image of the sky;
he tastes like dust
on the shelf
of a blue room
on the 8th floor
right beneath the aerial sea;
he sings
in a damask blindfold;
and shoots another blank love
he sleeps a childless sleep;
a ghost...hidden;
waiting to get out

thank you!