Three things needed to be what we are
Three gimicks making the wordmonger
First, the thirst to mimick and bind everything that comes before eyes, in words
Words must come before fists
Second is the sharp silence,
Though we trade blows in words
Silence is the actual lethal thing in our arsenal
Nothing cuts deeper than nothing
We know what expects on the other side
Nothing cuts deeper than the ghost knife
Third is that one thing
That one being
One place to belong to
One blank in the puzzle
One and only
Nothing comes after nothing comes before
One thing wordlocks can't hold onto
That one thing that keeps the insanity in check
Now its slipping away
And fires are back, eating at our heels
We can only watch from behind a glass wall
Thin as air but refuse to move
Explore some more, one more heal
Something to seal these thoughts
Before we explode
...please

Amid the darkness,
the moon shines bright.
The sky scattered with stars.
You lay your head.
The day is done.
To pause for a moment,
To recharge.
Is the world asleep?
Are you the only one
With heavy lids,
With ticking mind?

Needing sleep,
Your brain refuses.
Is there a list to write,
a moment needing worry?
You check the clock
the time ticks on.
5 hours till your alarm,
Four hours, three, two
Will you get any sleep?

Panic starts to creep
You'll oversleep,
You'll  miss the day,
What if you never wake,
What if no one wakes?
How can you sleep?
There's thoughts to be had.
There's chores to list,
Your day to plan.


Where's the pause button,
The off switch?
The mind can wait,
Tomorrow will come.
Rest those lids,
Let yourself go
And drift away.

Remember me?
We talked last year,
I was the cold
And you were still here,
I would talk about my dreams
And you’d disappear
And as I would dream
I’d look for ways to keep,
My hands entangled in your destiny
But I guess it was never meant to be
I was the cold, and you were the sea
And wherever I am, you’d never be

The human suffering is my life's project
How could I ever turn my back on it

All the images of loss I had painted
On my own cold concrete Berlin wall
Paintbrush dipped into a catalog color
"Dark ocean of despair"
Smearing it cautiously on the rough surface
Protecting the still innocent from the ricochets

Oh the number of books that I had written
About another restless soul stuck in limbo
Circling the globe on a boat called "Oblivion"
I shoot them into my not so public library in the sky
Riding on the back of a spark flying from my sympathetic heart
Only to allow their sad glow to forever illuminate the top of my head

An archive of movies stored in a chamber of my heart
Categorized into natural human disasters
All written and directed by me
Starring every soul that ever exposed itself to mine
On a hot sticky night with a glass of wine
In a dusty desert wearing dark green uniform
On the grassy banks of a beautiful European canal
Their silent cries for help are the soundtrack of my life
The shot of an unfallen tear I could never cut out

The pain of a life lived internally,
A bag of beautiful intentions bursting at the seams
Are the substance of the blanket I cover myself with
When I try to fall asleep
Who would I be without it?

Still...

To be still with myself.
This i avoid.
It's uncomfortable just yet,
To be still with myself.

Too many thoughts in my head,
For me to untwist and untangle.
Too many memories.
I dont want to live over again.
Too many heartaches unfed.
Too many failures and mistakes,
That can never be earsed.

These i can not unbreak,
And i do not face.
Why be still and reflect on these pains?
It doesnt make them change.

Still is just not me.
That i can not be.
Busy I'll continue to be
Until there is nothing left
But still...
Then i will be still.

Lori L. Mack
10/28/2015

When the rest the world is fast asleep
his mind seems to find it's peak.
Sure, he dreams but not like others.
He tugs his sheets and rolls his covers.
His eyes stay shut, the clock still ticks
The sun will dawn but not his fix.