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Mark Apr 7
Fearful cows. Proud buckets. Sequestered and barbed.
Three freckles. A constellating of anchors.
Violating space.
The long road travelled and the long road ahead.
Each length, perfect reflection of the other.
You are travelling as a mirror. Roving.
Violating time.
Swallowing hours. Draped. A shroud of volition.
The sky is still crying. The sea is angry.
You hear it sometimes, underneath the wind’s wails.
It can hear you. Sometimes. But always it sees.
Violating mind.
What it sees sends sun to sky and turns rain to
tears of joy, collected in proud buckets, that
drizzle down, dousing the faces of fearful cows.
Mark Jan 2020
Speak.

Don't let self-doubt
contaminate your thoughts.

Don't let apprehension
block your airways.

Don't let fear
hold your throat in choke.

Don't let anxiety
sever your tongue.

Don't let anything
stop you from conjuring
words from your depths.

Speak!

And be heard.
Mark Jan 2020
Don't waste perfectly good loneliness.

Don't waste it on the wrong person.
Don't even waste it on the right person.

Don't waste loneliness during the day,
When there are things to be done.
Don't waste it in dreams at twilight,
When there are dones to be thinged.

Don't waste loneliness at night
When your time should be your own
And could be filled with anything
Other than everything you're not.

Take your loneliness
And denigrate it.
Crumple it. Crush it.
Throw it in a blender.
An industrial oven.

Take it out
For a few drinks too many,
And a few more after that;
Lull it into a false sense of security
That congeals with its drunken state
To create a blinding dichotomy
Of vulnerability and arrogant invincibility,
So it suspects nothing
As you lead it
Down a dark alley
And beat it to death with a brick.

Have a too-close-to-call
Fight to the death
With your loneliness
In a public toilet,
With it almost getting
The better of you
Until you smash it
Teeth-first
Off of a porcelain
Sink basin,
Before dragging it
By the hair
To a cubicle,
Where you hold its head
Under the toilet water,
Long after its body stops convulsing.

Do what you can
To transmute
Your loneliness
Into solitude,
And wear it.

Inside-out.
Back to front.
Upside-down.
Right side up.

Wear solitude so well that
It ends up wearing you,
As its skin.

Use solitude to learn thyself.
To feel thyself.
To know thy changing self.

Let solitude remind you that
The existence of loneliness
Begets the existence of
The antithesis of loneliness.

So definitely don't waste
Perfectly good loneliness,
Especially if you're forgoing
Perfectly good hope.
Mark Nov 2019
Sometimes I wish I was a spirit.

I would be able to drift:
From place to place,
Person to person,
Event to event.

I would be able
To visit
Anywhere.
Everywhere.
Past, present, future.

Memorable and
Forgettable alike.

I would be able to witness
The creation
And the
Destruction
That humanity has
Inflicted and gifted
Its earthly palette.

I would be able to see
All the beautiful people,
And their beautiful smiles.

Every single one of them.

Everyone would be beautiful;
For I would not
Have an eye
Through which
To behold them.

I would be able to
Absorb moments
Without corrupting them
With my presence.

I would be able
To condense
Everything
And
Nothing
Into a droplet
I could drink
Forever.
Mark Oct 2019
The night is perfect.

Cold air relief
From the loud
Heat of the bus.

Beyond the road
People laugh
And embrace;
A perfect soundtrack
That ignites the silent stillness.  

I don't know where
You're coming from,
So I look both ways:

Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
Left.
A headlight!

Every time
An approaching car
Announces itself
Through engine and gravel,
I turn and look up as
A speedbump throws light
Flaring through my retina,
Obscuring everything,
So that for a few seconds,
I have no idea
If it's you or not.

And with each passing car,
My anticipation
Grows.
And my excitement
Grows.

I am happy.
Mark Oct 2019
Flower bloom, Summer's end.
The past looms, no wounds mend.
Vicinal tomb. Please pretend
All is well, everything' fine,
And there is enough
Time is a flat circle,
Not a straight line...
Seasonal shift. Darkness find.
Self-cannibalistic, sequestered mind.
Life and death, nature's rhyme.
Final breath; peace from mind.
Mark Oct 2019
I feel it.
Everything.
I feel it.
Deep inside.
I hear the shadows,
And taste the light.
I feel it.
The crushing weight
And the transcendence
Of existence.
My skin, my flesh
Cannot contain this
Velcroed spirit.
I feel it all.
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