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Morning Trip (event one)


Steak knife, orange, half peeled, coffee, smoky morning, moved inside to write, clock read 11:11...

It's gone too far.

Peace cannot breathe air into the waters. Love’s unable to recover from its suicide. Torture and war; their oppression, failing too. Goodness pushes its scent like a petal’s breath in the wind.

The clock reads 11:11?  What’s "too far"? 
The scent; a reminder of her beauty. Eleven eleven. That’s too near. A mirror for love to hold. I’ll need more time! My reflection, my fortune, full Love. I’ve gone too far. My regret, my sadness, my complicity. Yes. My greed, my lovelessness, my death.  
Something is coming.

Haze trippin’ in the morning- something’s going to happen. ...November the eleventh, twenty-eleven, not horrific, but tragic nonetheless...

II-II-II.
IIIIII.
IIIII.
IIII.
III.
II.
I.
Too many I.

Perhaps I arrived a minute too early or late. (Perhaps I forgot what came after eleven?)

Steak knife, orange, half peeled, coffee, smoky morning, moved inside to write, clock read 11:11...


© 2011 by mark prime

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