Freckles

Freckled stars over his forearms. Recked scars under his sentences. any ambition had a kinked source. Chased by dots, shadows in knots, dried dread, dry dreams ,  washed out, aged in the sons. What to think about this step towards the grave, has this time here made him a slave to the things shown beyond the years, promised not delivered. Shaded, showing flaws and fears, feelings and tears, a wonky line, a stitch in time. Freckles turn cancerous, anything that put a lump in your throat.