by Mark McConville
I think you’re magic
A stylist of optimism
Conquering the storm and the darkness
While I sit and stare at the silhouette in the distance
A human form who looks dishevelled
And ready to leave under streetlights.
I can’t see a link to greatness
For me
Only what’s ifs
And broken language
Near deals
And penetrating headaches.
You are the one to save me
A negotiator with truth
A imprint in my head
Your face is designer
Gracefully animated.
I wish you could bottle my pain
Smash it across the street
So I can feel alive again
Perfectly drawn and purposeful.
The silhouette moves steadily
In my vision
Under pressure
Then it moves frenetically.
I want to reach out
Pack my bags
Move away and build a life
Stretch for you.
But I can’t feel the grip
I’m fading into the room
The master tapes of my life
Have corrupted
So I’ll just put to rest my near venture.
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