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Mark Toney Dec 2019
7/11/2018 - Poetry form: Footle - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
n0r May 2018
eyes glazed, passing...
at magnificence...
this doldrum...
muddy browns...
streaks of green...
an ever changing blues...

a sudden crackling in synapses
erupting through the real!

a pale iris gaining
electric sheen!
a meaningless menagerie
collapsing into an expanse!
within this little slab of goo!?
Shadows or shadows of shadows?
Marly Apr 2014
it feels like the blood inside my veins is moving like quick dry cement does ten hours after it's poured
simultaneously a storm brews in them
similar to how mom once brewed soup that tasted of distanced family and bile
bile which still resides in a clump at the back of my throat from the last time i said your name
you are he-who-shall-not-be-named since saying your name is as dangerous as saying Voldemort’s
monochromatic colour schemes make up my world, each day either tinted or shaded
usually shaded because I was told that dark colours are slimming and that thought never left my mind
rain smudges all of the pigments together and even my glasses can't correct my vision
i love rain but my rainbows are always brown-black
like those karate belts you had when you lived
or how she used to mix all of her playdoh together
i used to believe that she created the world that way
god i wish i was right.
things would be better with you her

— The End —