Mark R Slaughter (1957)

I tripped,
Fell into a new year.

Heavy hung elusive cheer
Atop a pool of stagnant hope;
A grubby smear upon the faint horizon.

I puzzled in a maze of cancer-blessing fags,
Took to weed; drawing drags, I felt
The desperation surge within.
Search for peace wore ever thin.

If I were freed from self-perpetuation
Of negation – deep depression –
I’d clamber for a life that had a meaning.

It isn’t working.
I think I’ll stick with dreaming
Yet again.




Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011