Corridor

I look into this corridor full of foreign ghosts
insisting in remain tangled in every corner.
And, ¡out! ¡Out!

But they still don't want to go completely.
Something special in their blue blanket density
insists in keeping them grounded little centimeters over the floor.
As moribund helium balloons.
Something... gravity.
And, ¡out! ¡Out!

But they still don't go.