Markmalady
1 min readAug 12, 2020

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What was the name of that emotion?

Split to the embers,

Trace of ash take in the slow step to the northern side of never land.

There the dreams blend to the backdrop of Yesteryear, illusions stacked upon strang rhthymes of hate slowly collidein with the fevers of now.

Reality was silver spooned delight,

Tuesday the last cherry for your

Ravenous tounge.

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Markmalady

Lover of playful words. Passionate about storytelling and poetry as mediums for self discovery and building meaningful connections with others.