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The Man in the Mist


I am walking through it

Walking on this cold and 

almost slick pavement

Deep in the midnight 

Wondering if I will go 

through with it 

Should I make the changes 

required to survive this ghost 


Its cold tonight

I see light ahead from the post 

but not seeing any absolution just 

the narrowing, yet wide fogged walkway

Walking down it in all cold and almost ashamed 


Thinking the best part of me was taken 

long ago and wondering if what was taken 

could ever be restored 

I truly doubt anything can ever 

be restored to its origin


Damaged goods


It’s like a stain on clothing

It can be stubborn and may fade 

but always there

Perhaps washing it again will do

But how... I keep wondering how


I am feeling numb, an itch between 

my legs as I walk. 

The fog is almost thick yet sparse in areas, 

almost patchy but surely cold


My hand in my long pea coat  pocket grasping 


Could it be that what was taken be 

Just an accident

Did it really happen

Did I ask for it

Was it a fate thing

A lesson?

What a crapy way to infuse a lesson

Confusion is setting in again

My brain hurts from rambling 

from one thought to another and they 

all lead to this point of my lost walk  


A mist


My hands are too cold even in my long 

coat pocket as I grasp it


The sorrow is deep as the core of the 

Earth but expansive as the stars in the night

I look up and wonder if the presence of these 

urges to finish it all will fade or stay.  

But they stay


Tears are falling hot against my cold skin 

and remember those moments of uncomfortableness 

The unwanted touch

Blurred but still there 

No one to help or intervene 


I reflect once more and ponder on how to continue

to restore some part of me as I walk down the walk way

I see the Hudson River and the faint 

New York City Skyline at the left side of me

I see lady liberty faintly in front of me

I stop, walk over towards the banister 

and it’s almost a hazy mist but can still see 

my reflection in the dark water from the in 

between light posts and the sparse 

crescent moon light


Wondering if 


I grasp it in my hand and pull away from coat pocket


I must continue

And wonder if

Walking down the walkway I see two random 

people huddling their coats and fog coming out 

of their months walking to their final destinations 

and have no idea If they could read my perplexing face 


I see myself and heading towards healing from 

the sorrow with tissue in one hand and the 

other in my pocket grasping this cold metal 


Wondering if


I hear a voice saying wonder no more

It would be a mistake and a waste


I simply don’t know what to think


Some how I can’t control it

I wonder what a mistake that has taken 

place in me and that I was the problem 

or I was a mistaken


No longer grasping the cold metal of gun...tossed into water


The image of my two loves bring me back 


As I enter their bedroom and see them resting  

I kiss them on their foreheads gently 

and wonder no more

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