The fruit of
the Pacific madrone
tree may at
first entice you
with its fiery
scarlet skin.

But bite
into it and
you’ll taste
astringent, gristly pith—
with hard seeds
like discarded
children’s teeth.

You will know
that foolish feeling
that lurks within
the shadow between
sugary expectations
and bitter truth.

My mistake, i lost myself
I said I'd die for love but lied
My health declined
Forced sober eyes
My heart restarted -
Now misaligned
With hers to find
old grapes resurfaced
she turned to wine
Wine our trusty common ground
Held me close
Together again
A moment of zen
And then the crash
a sharp decent
Her health and her mask
Gone overnight
Daybreaks I awake alone
Amidst a vast mass of half recollections
Smashed glass and regret
She met me again for the first time and said with new found sober tongue
None of this was real, my dear, you and i we're fools - yes both of us
But between you and i (also anyone else if anyone asks) you are far more foolish having thought you could be loved
My mistake, i forget who i am
Pour another cup or 10
Let me buy us all another round
Strangers to friends
Grieving all the love i lack
Left behind, a burden of men
Perhaps she was the worse
What's worse is when she's gone and all I'm Left with is her words
this curse, it hurts to finally see   the love i give away in vain another's unrequited repentance and since it wasn't ment for us soon the moments gone
And so is everyone i love -- alone again and left with this thought i get everytime I'm down and out --I'm not enough, I've never even had enough  
My mistake, i lost, myself
Repeat that back again
I lost myself
With help from hurt
I mistook loss for love and caused a world of  pain
First for myself
And my mental health
My mistake, i tried to shake
Myself awake.
Alone is better after all
My mistake my life
too late
I lost
I took
Too much  
Thats my mistake
Not enough

Summer nights in your eyes,
Car rides at floating sunsets
You took my rose-hand
And pulled me up onto a pine tree.
You were the bird and I was the cone.
The world seemed to be in love,
But then I fell
And you flew away.
Winter nights in your heart,
Dry leaves at cold-births
You grabbed my shirt
And pushed me into cavity.

picking ripe plump figs
each one marred by pecking holes
~ pleasantly plump birds






Mark Toney © 2021

I spot a Spider in the sandpit
abdomen like a gooseberry
     and the colour
          gooseberry green

tastes like regular Spider

If my father could see me now
I hope that he would be disappointed in me.
It would be easier than knowing
I can make out a man underneath the smoke,
underneath the mountain of ash left on a burning man’s face.
It would be easier to hold water in my hands than accept
that his love would burn me to ash too

I am full of disappointment
Existential dread
That every breath I take
Is corrosive to my mind
Gnawing away at my essence
Dulling its shine