Reaction of Bad Bearings.

It starts off with a huge pit,
Then you just stare.
You feel your breath get shorter,
A cinder block dropped on your chest.
And with each pull for air,
It gets harder
And harder.
Your legs feel numb
They get shaky
A wobble to only sink in
Deeper into yourself.
Hands covering your mouth,
Eyes starting to water,
And all you can do is choke.
Choke on your own throat
Feel the lump grow bigger
As you swallow each time.
Afraid to show yourself,
That is the only word to describe
The state in which you are left.
The reality of your worst fear,
Becoming true.
Then there is silence,
A long dreading awful pause.
Nobody knowing what to say,
Or what to do…
And you just stand there,
Feeling so empty.

Reaction of Bad Bearings.

A Random at the Bar

December 28th, 2012

I shared my deepest thoughts with someone,
He was a random at the bar.
I noticed he liked to draw and write, like so I figured in a sense we were not that different.
It was near closing time and the kitchen had already shut down, the bar was empty except for a couple all the way at the other end, and while my shift was done.
I decided to stay a little longer and talk.
Socialize I suppose you can say.
He asked me those generic questions, the ones where it just surfaces the life of someone.
I told him how I admired his pictures and art work,
The way he was so freely expressive.
He asked me what I did on my free time, or when things got boring.
“ I write, write what I see and feel, write about anything, and sometimes I draw”
I told him about this small travel notebook I carry with me everywhere.
He asked me if I had it with me.
I walked back to the desk where my bag was hiding and pulled out my leather black small notebook.
It had my most intimate thoughts and dreams, my moments in life that I had surpassed.
It had everything. And never once have I shared it with anyone.
He asked to see it, but I never thought he would actaully look through it.
I saw his eyes skim, he pointed at certain things, laughed and questioned.
When he finally put it down he looked up at me and said
“You are one angry horny teenager”
I cooly just replied “Nothing wrong with feeling a little anger and pleasure, such opposite feelings, women write and read erotic things, men watch porn. Give us credit for at least using our imagination, women are so shut in by society and given labels for simply enjoying sex, don’t you think that should be broken by now?”
He just simply nodded his head and smiled in defeat and said “yea, I was like that when I was your age”
He was a random at the bar, for a moment I showed who I was as a person.
And it was accepted, there was that great feeling of connection and acceptance,
Finding someone who gets you, who knows you, because at some point
They were you.

A Random at the Bar

Get Angry.

“you need to get ANGRY” I have heard that phrase for about a week, “You need to get angry”, how do I just get angry? Just scream at the top of my lungs, make my skin hot, my cheeks turn red, steam escape my ears. Yes that angry. That kind of angry I have never reached. Sure I have gotten pissed, but angry?

Angry Marz?

I am suppose to YELL and SCREAM shout, really feel it. So I kept thinking, how on earth will I find a way to make myself angry enough to just let it all out? I have my chance to act this out. It hit me, I will just picture you, sitting front row next to those people I love, and then I will picture you sitting in the front row on the other side laughing with them right next to you. Yes, that is what I will do, imagine. You sitting front row next to “them” normally laughing and conversing sharing stories, touching, hugging, I will yell at you as if you really where back.


My show, before I perform, before the spotlight is shone on me. I will picture it at all. And then you will hear an Angry Marz, all this anger building up, just to preform a five minute monologue and a 5 minute skit. A discomfort to invite.

It is time to get angry.

– Marz

Happy readings 🙂


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Get Angry.