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Uncategorized – MarquesHaven.com
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Uncategorized

Part I: Where Is Marques Haven ~

Haven finds himself in somewhat of a quandary tonight. Smokes, diet coke …gun., phone. Hum, something seems missing, off even….8;15 PM - April 25…. maybe. Something…isn’t right…. With the exception of him, the hotel-room is empty and quiet. That gentle echo rings sweetly in the back of his head, calling him to peak over the edge. Something is just not right. Was that…. couldn’t be…. There was a call earlier… can’t quite remember , something about…. Haven checks his pockets, but his mind already knows… empty. His mouth wants to let loose a “FUCK-A- DUCK”. Why can’t he remember?As his jaw tenses his body suddenly braces for pain - but it doesn’t come. The anticipation feels familar though… he’s certain of it. A hotel guests passes by the door… he peeps the gun but doesn’t reach… something is…. Whatever this is , it’s not good - never was. He contemplates, packing up… running. But why should he give ground? The echo is no longer faint. It’s louder now, much louder. Maybe a smoke will settle his nerves… better yet a drink. He reconsiders as a memory flashes by… a ticket, something about a ticket? Phone vibrates, unknown number. "Yeah" he thinks… what’s new. it always is. Then it happens, Havens tries to…. ...

Room With A View #1416 – Westin Gateway Arlington VA

My Room with a ViewIts dark, its night, its cold outside,each window shines a different light.A different hue, a different shadow,a different view.Sometimes I see a couple embrace,sometimes I see children fight,I fantasize about each facethe looks of anger, of love or fright.I see the old woman in the rocking chairrock backwards and forwards with heartfelt care;for the outline of the wrinkles on her faceshow toils and troubles that have gracedher tired worn body that life has etched,like a charcoal drawing on a canvas sketched.I look down below and I seethe red brake lights of a car, a family.Mother, father, child, and baby,all together, at once a symphonyof voices that giggle and chatteras they tumble in the car, nothing matters.I look at the stars in the navy skythe flickering of wishes of hearts that cry,and place their dreams and hopes up nigh,to heaven and the angels that are always there,to carry our cares on wings of prayer.There are cackles of laughter on the streeta momentous occasion, must have been a feast.Parties of merry voices drudge by,a glass of bubbly that has run dry.Arm and arm they bid goodnightand it is still again and there are fewer lights.As the evening becomes morningI soon realizethat I’m the only person awakeas the new day is dawning.Night as become lightand my eyes draw closedIts time for bedtime, I suppose.Margaret Purslow ...

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