Miracles

Dystopia:  An imaginary place or state in which the condition of life is extremely bad, as from deprivation, oppression, or terror.

Skin and bones: Sick. Agonizing, dying dystopia.
​Skin and bones: Extremely thin...  just like a veil. It might be a veil between the planes of existence.

This was an interesting poem,
well written Mark's.

It gives Me much to think upon.

  Pan

Thank you.

The depth of this piece is a league at least. The critique: I like the consistency in your write. It shows confidence and courage in the skills you possess, with well layered thoughts and images to project your idea outward from that inner world. It grows and flows smoothly... to a point. The seventh line, "Idyllic settings for conjectures", left me with a wondering of if it really belonged. It chops off and finishes the poem before the actual ending of it. Line seven seems to abandon line six, and doesn't connect with eight at all, from what I can see. I would suggest taking it out putting six and eight together, or create a new line, if you like.  Other than that, I think this piece is good. These are my thoughts to you. Take it easy, and write on.  

Thank you for your comment.

 "My life disappears like smoke
Idyllic settings for conjectures"
These lines suggest  secrets because the mission is supposed to be impossible.

"My body burns like neon lights"... because of the secrets  and miracles.  
"I live in safety, I am secure"  ... incognito.