#pockmarked

© EricBrazier.com

I’d wanted to see the moon again – Pockmarked and ivory, entering and Innuendo, like crisp leaves under foot; “Crunch, crunch, crunch,” and so went The cereal before sog. Parallel, the same Suffering’s smeared come my bones Under foot, under cloud and ‘ever as I’d wander empty if even with you. You’ve Turned back and continue to study, “Away.” I’d wanted to see the moon again - Come the scent of fried wantons and Neon glance; “Crackle, crackle, Crackle,” like hot dogs over fires, only Hindered, the hiss of a boy’s tears atop Flame, so long as I’d understand empty, If only with you. But your two’s atop His lips, a smear upon the line we call, “Horizon,” and so continues, this study Of, “away.” And I’d never see the moon again – So Silence became the sun, a blight, a Bright, the, “shiny,” I’d wish banned; Like the eerie, like the day dad’d packed His bags or day he’d finally died; If only To accept this solitude, miasma Subtracted you, with everything else, But emptied you. An impasse atop Endeared eidetic, as I’ll try and I’ll Recall and I’ll fail, this test to finally Forget. So I’d rest with an, “F,” he’d rest in An urn and you’d rest, simply rest, at the Top of your class, without fault, and a Graduate, your study of, “away.”