Smoked Cigarettes The Easy Way


No matter what the day brings, I find myself there.
Not sure how to leave.
The pull is strong.
With the chemicals of the past I become weaker.
The edge,
Showing its glow.
The purity waves in and out raising me up and down.
Tasting me out.
Waking me up to a level not attainable in any eventuality expressed without a harboring addition.
Delicately stepping between the bounds of hatred and exhaustion.
Bringing forth new hidden horizons, with a single breath.
A gradual decline in caring.
The need is greater than the options.
Mentally Physical;
Drawing out an additional process to make the day flow.
Without thinking those around you can see the bridge you're on is stable or not.
Forgetting where it's laid.
Another damaged breath takes you to the next level and back to the starting post.
Grip a hold on the joyful experience down the road, after the balance is totaled.


Copyright 1997
Mark J. Hall
All Rights Reserved




Impeached Blimishes On The Sand


I remember everything,
The long walks by the lake.
The secret conversations.
The drained pool;
The rip;
The awakward glances to the ground.
I was there in the heat of the moment, waiting to be.
How close is the distance between us?
Discoveries our mine to keep.
The remoteness is devistating.
Looking towards the mountain on the troubled side.
Viewing the reconnection, at the stretch of the road unseen.
Willing it into focus.
Demanding the actions needed to happen and become real, tangible and attained.
My only conduit is a challenge unto itself.
Maddening;
The phrases changed but the goal is the same.


Copyright 1997
Mark J. Hall
All Rights Reserved




Hegedus


The struggle each day is getting harder for me.
We didn't share the house at the same time but his memory is not leaving.
I litterally wait as long as I can to go even towards the bathroom.
That's where it happened, the death.
More like a suicide.
If he wouldn't have recorded it I would not have known about it at all.
I found the audio tapes shortly after I moved in.
A legacy no one wants.
He himself did not comprehind the results.
The initial shock has worn off but the residue never flakes away.
Taking myself back to listening to the tape has become a ritual.
Slurring words and stumbling over them.
The thick silence, then a click an echoing explosion of the gun followed.
A haunting thud as his body dropped into the tub, the sloshing waves.
Final gasps of life.
In a muffled distance the phone rings, the answer manchine picks it up.
"Kevin we have to talk, your message was hard to understand pick up if you are there,
I'm here! Please Kevin pick up! It's your sister."
It paralysied my entire body the first time I heard it.
Now to some level it has paralyzed my mind.
The questions on my mind most of every day are why did I have to hear the truth?
Why and how is this supposed to benefit me?
The obvious answer is don't try this at home, but there is amuch larger answer in the puzzle.
You see the tape it was on was labled "Darkness number thirty-nine."
I have listened to the rest of the series and he was a intensely profound person.


Copyright 1997
Mark J. Hall
All Rights Reserved