the coming

twelve death semper fi academy laying face down in sand sounds wordless eyes blank no more rumours about his coming or going about who he kissed in dark rooms at social affairs no more worries about eatting or where to sleep for him no more meaning behind song lyrics or running from the suddenness of rain. the news comes at dinner quiet stovetop dinner table settings just right and people whisper about their day during television commercials they are eatting while they're watching (at least before door knocks, and downward stares, a marine cap in hand man at the doors looks heavy shoulders and steps into the room and half of their lives are broken, but not his not his it's still sad) and then quietness the game is on the television rattles the silence and words won't be spoken dinners wont be finished warlines lives and hatred arguments about facial piercings when he was fifteen won't matter anymore and might be just might be regretted- lives shatter and every room of the house is filled with tears, breaking.

what happens now?

time tells fairy tails tells stories about heroism and humor senses that weren't there that didn't need to be- not knowing him they build him as people do of people who are gone that they can never know (well enough intentions) and passing time will paint him a saint instead of troubled teen who did too many drugs and signed up to get out of a stint at lew sterritt but who will know? who needs to know?

tears come through the breaks in every door of the house.

2004-07-06 | 5:30 p.m.
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