JW Mark

All in static black we scrimp and save

Despotic in our malcontent

For what could be, (but never is) the end

Of hunger, dread and doubt.

Feigning sleep to wake at mid-day

when the sunshine spent (now lost)

We leave in hopes to find a cloudy indecision

                  black sheet focus/ rain swept fortune

                  All in torment of our purpose and our course

Wander pathways paved of horrors

Find a someplace white inside she screams

                 Disenchantment held inside her vowels, she says,

                 “I think I cry torrential downpours” and

Presumed escape from some entrapment

held inside her mind and treading in misfortune

All is scattered, lost and lazy

JW Mark is a poet living in Sagamore Hills, Ohio. Among the publications to include his work are The Ampersand Review, Eunoia Review, The Midwest Literary Magazine, flashquake, and The North Chicago Review. He is the author of a novel, entitled Artifice, as well as a book of poems entitled Patched Collective. He can be contacted at jwmarkmail@gmail.com