I
Left
You
Because
I
Was
Tired
Of
Being
Your
Poison

I used to be scared of you
Too much of a good thing,
But now you are a building block
To help it all to sing.

You are bold and bright and brazen,
While you compliment so well.
Once I understood you
In love is what I fell.

everyone seems to see
a dimmer version of meaning
than i do
it’s starting to mess with me

I think i'm..
falling apart at the seams
with little to no sleep and horror-filled dreams
I cannot think straight
why bother to think of a lie to deceive
the things i'm falling into, now even stumbling on my gait;
There isn't sincerity in my smile
and wrinkles somber seen in my style
My hair's a birds mess
I don't think I call it any less
than that.. a mess
There's so much abandon
to the happy, frolicking days
now..
I think i'm falling apart at the seams
with no more than horror-filled dreams;
A tearing mind, screaming
into the empty, silent winds
maybe i'm letting myself sabotage myself to fall apart at the seams.
Oh, maybe I am.. it seems

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Love (down)

I love you
And you will never hear me say
That I don't
I know
We are meant to be
I can't believe that you think
You're not beautiful
I'm sorry but
You are mine
You can never say that
I'm lying

Evol (up)

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

hardwood memories
well-rooted, time-tested, safe
~ hiking in mind's woods






Mark Toney © 2021

Climb the mountain,
And see what's on the other side of fear.

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

What is in your hand?
is it bleeeding or just a rose flower?

Dust particles flicker
Like snow suspended
In the back and forth
An ocean of mo(u)rning
Light polishing pieces
Into small sea shells
Fragments of another
Body, of another life

The universe loves a bad joke.

I was always infused by the quartz of time
I balanced love in separate hands ; cut , aching , refusing to heal

Happiness was measured out one grain of sand at a time
My measuring cup runneth over

My thoughts are bleached  bone white .
But I have preserved the marrow of my ways

I am the walking cacti
that push rocks in the sand creating the trails of tears that never reach the ground

I am desert
Full of the emptiness
that exists on the face of clocks and time

I am one grain of sand
The silence of the wind
I have no foundation
I'm tendered to my whims

Is
this
all
working out

better

in another dimension

I am a villain in somebody’s story
Multiple perhaps
more than likely

And that is excruciating.

I wish I could’ve done right by every single one of them

    So every indention of me left brings only warmth

I know that I'm falling
and you are too
and I know you will catch me
and I know you won't mind
but I don't deserve the faith you have in me
I'm not the person you think I am

So many poems
and stories
have gone unwritten
due to fear of not being good enough

If there comes a time
that you might lose me
Find me in my poetry

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

I wish things were different
Between you and me
But all of these feelings,
That's all they'll ever be.

There was a feeling at the back of my throat
that I just couldn’t swallow
  
I lived with it
the way that I live with a song
that gets stuck in my head  

Then it began to migrate
to my eyes
to my stomach
to my knees

I could taste it

every time I tried to breathe
my chest would shake  
My throat vibrating staccatos
as I exhaled

I needed somewhere to lay my head
until I could choke it down
or cough it out.    

The feeling was a little rubber ball             
It had no color           
It had no name  

It bounced around in my head,
much more dangerous than a song             
This rubber ball was mine
and it might never fade  

If I couldn’t sing it out
or give it to someone else  
I’d be stuck with my rubber ball
until they take it away

When no one is looking
I throw my rubber ball
I smash it on the rough concrete
outside in the street

Sometimes
I aim it at the bare light bulb
high on the ceiling.  
My rubber ball is bruised
and scratched
and burned.  

This rubber ball that is mine
doesn’t count.  I don’t want it.  

They will take it away with
the feeling at the back of my throat
that I’m not big enough to swallow

In the morning of yesterday
There were strangers talking in my garden, heads close together
Intent on each other, in whispers
I heard them say your name
And the earth shifted a little...the season moved forward a little
And I heard myself sigh like a dreamer

Harvesting hearts and marigolds
The thief steals in when we least expect it, masqued and lithe
Wanting an exploration of Souls
Oblivious, if we’re generous
But still the knife cuts deeply...the blade turns without intention
And I’m bleeding out like a Madrigal

I loved you too much in the Mirrorfall
I found you in the violin’s shadow
Dust and star tears are my witnesses
I love you
My joy and my abyss

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

i spend my days
pouring myself into the cups of others

only to find that
when it’s time for myself
to take a sip

all that’s left
in my cup
is the remainder of a girl
who gave too much