Oak McIlwain

Is there a stain on your mirror?

Do you see you see yourself no more?

Are you out there on the street selling happiness like a whore?
My only disease is a deep inner joy that shines through my tears.

And I rejoice in tribulation

Because tribulation worketh patience, patience understanding.

And you rejoice in matter as your intestines fall to the floor.

And your heart dries up but remains faintly idling like your thought created machines.

And I’m calling you always from this distant realm of now.