Ghost's Pen

I can see the ghosts conducting their individual boats like flies
Hovering frantically over a mound of garbage
Unsure where to settle and take a look down beneath the surface
They wipe their eyes of their tears but the salty liquid could never wash their hands of the ink from sin's pen
Ghosts sharing pain blow their boats' horns searching for some kindred spirit wailing that same haunting tune that brings shivers to the spine
Each note riddled with the soft ghastly undertones of shadow and wisp
Boats floating noiselessly into obscurity
Each ghost like forgotten memories drowned in the abyss of the endless horizon
The real trick is finding yourself among the ghosts