the prodigious son

curled up acorns of long fallen trees and

disgustingly fattened children of legends

eating away at sugar covered luxuries

like maggots on a dead corpse.

what is left is candied bones and a false sense of oblivion.

melancholy cries of the greatness that flows within me scream my father's words.

but within the silence thrives me, the prodigious son. 

painting by Tom Bennet