Marcus Wilson

A bottle of dark enchantment

I summon storms that forecasters
Can’t predict 
Forge fake friendships 
In dim-lit, bar rooms
And send kids to 
Bed scared and 
Crying

I'm the friend you think you need—
A river of fake courage
And charisma hidden under car seats 
And inside cupboards 
Dredging channels through personality
Drowning connection,
Falsifying true love

I’m the garbage
—bottles and cans
Shoved quickly into closets,
Portraying normalcy 
To unsuspecting visitors

I’m the sullen gaze—
Fixated on the white wall of a bedroom
A screen of memories


I feed on what you never face
Devour all the years you lost

Marcus Wilson is an emerging poet from the Green Mountains of Vermont. His work reflects on memories, inner life, and personal transformation. He writes to explore the deeper meanings beneath everyday experiences.