Plain Son

Graveyard boy lost in the haze

Light years from the car crash of the century

Bones ground to dust under the decades of rust

Endings replay reruns 

Spark notes lining his pockets in the subtle dance shuffling for masonry, and a name

Chasers of waves and fortune

Friends, and families united in a snapshot only forgotten in an instant

Glow in the dark stars line eyelids once sutured shut as the dead leaves and dirty grounds

flicker with wishes too late

Abandoned in the moment

Moments that folded into pieces of sand scattered in the distant past

Every day the same routine around the same empty houses

Afternoon coffee graveside 

And the evening news fireside hoping that the dreams warm themselves

Manifesting in a festering glaze

Daymares of the deepest oceans where true love missed and

sleeps in the blackest parts of non descript, non existing, non admitting parts of what could have been.

Plotting courses to unknown countries only to be tied to the stock and left for dead.

Graveyard boy walks around the lake

Rains the parade he was never in.

Knees that no longer buckle

The substance of existence floats like balls of hope in the currents

No curtain call

Plainsong chime in the trees that never die

Wind that whistles from the inside.

He collects names and dead roses

His heart is made out of candy corn

Eyes full of stars

Head full of routine

Smile on

Three X's on the stones