Dark Poetry Prose Poetry September 20, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

9-20-03 12:40am saturday brick NJ

eyes like razor blades. slicing through my skin. that i thought was so thick. but you make it thin. your eyes slit these wrists and kill me so much better than i ever did.

thinking in the midst about all that must be in your mind. circumstance and reality causing silver clouds to cry. will you go home. to bed. to her. to spend the night in your other life. will i ever stand up and make it right. quit injecting the pain you supply and let this dead horse die.

try too hard to lose yourself and you're more found than ever. try with all that you have to push up. break the force of gravity. the very thing that keeps you grounded is also the thing that holds you down. the pain that inflicts is the pain that denies.

on the edge of my flat world i can look out and see deep space. darkness so profound. closing my eyes to feel the quake. i can hear myself asking without ever saying. i know that you're trying, but only you know why. there's nothing left to take. there is no more room for graves. trying to remember death when so much life supercedes it. trying to crawl away and not have to be myself again. i can feel it rising up in me like the break of the ocean beating the sand. footprints vanished into forever. all the places we have tread erasing all traces that we ever did.

eyes too sure that they can see what no one can. what even i don't know about me. and thinking that you will go back. i haven't any protest. just these sheets we've stained. just the moment making me weak again. and knowing. owning up to the fact. that it's not an accident. that it happened. it has. and how you go back. i can't complain. i can hardly mention. but i think of it now when. how when it's getting late you must be thinking. how when you leave you return to.

i don't have an excuse. i can't ask. i hold every moment as if it is the last. i don't know why love gets all confused with. or how it even knows that it is. i don't have a method to this madness. just enjoy watching those eyes of yours slitting my wrists. it hurts, but it hurts so much better than doing it myself ever did.

9-20-03 1am brick NJ saturday

i'm this night more than any other. stripped down to the bone. exposed and tender. i'm this night because this night taught me how i am.

goodbye never had any meaning until goodbye was all that two hearts had.

tomorrow never meant anything until it was all that you needed. that imaginary concept of better days that are almost coming.

flesh never craved. and making love seemed such a fallacy. every thing that never was real is now all too real to me.

all that life can claim. all that silence cna say. resting heads and beating hearts. we pause for just a little while to momentarily be who are.

i know. it's obvious. it always was. i know. i just kept on hoping there was a way to forget.

stairways to heaven. so many years ago. all the footsteps that led to this place. they can't be wrong. they can't be right. all the ways there are to hate a life. i've done them. you'll never know me well enough to see just how much. you'll never be able to love like we should've, but it doesn't matter. since nothing does. long after we've dealt with this and moved on. long after you've realized there's very little here to covet, i'll wonder, but i won't ask why. i'll sit here in my wreckage and feel sorry that i ever got you involved.

it's just life. that's all it ever was. it's just trying and failing again. songs that mimiic. verses too truhtful to write.

it's playing as if we're young again. abandoning reality as if we can control it. it's just tomorrow on my doorstep trying to be real again. and i knowing that it isn't. your life. your everything. it's hard, but i know what's right. it hurts not in a good way. i just want to be able to knwo that i love you enough to leave it be. it willl happen. it'll happen eventually. when i know that's what we need.

9-20-03 saturday 9:30pm brick NJ

every day is a eulogy. every night a grave. some times it seems we are chasing life. and others that it gives chase. of all the things there are to covet before we die. they are all but one achieved through the hunt. all except love. it's the one thing that is never captured by us. the one thing we are always the victim of. that and death. but death is not a goal in life. not for most anyway.

so would that mean love and death are so somehow similar. related. it's often been said that it feels like dying when. there are those, maybe most, who enjoy being in love. being loved. but i don't. not in the traditional sense. all it's ever done is make me feel miserable. regardless of the circumstances. maybe that's just how i came to learn to enjoy being miserable. since hearts are so impossible to convince not to want love. at least when they are still somewhat young and foolish.

or there is the other approach. that i inflict it upon myself. seek out the situations that will cause pain. that with enough introspect, medication and therapy i could one day find and enjoy a healthy form of love.

every day is a eulogy. not just for me. for every one. the difference being every night is not a grave for most. how many times will i die before it finally takes a genuine hold.

how am i to trust in anyone else when half the time i can't even trust myself. and it's true the situations that i'm given to pursue tend to be terribly similar. the people different, but all on some level unavailable. present yes, but always with limits. too jaded to ever commit again. too obsessed with career. too married.

and ironically the married one has the most time to share. too much i think sometimes for my solitairy mind. he must think i'm a liar or that i exaggerate when i say i am a loner. it's just that i have leanings toward martyr. and they say no one likes a martyr, but that's not entirely true. they just don't like it if you make it obvious. they love it if they don't know you're doing it. so he wants to talk every night. or hang out every week. it's hard for me to say no. or not answer the phone. sometimes i don't want to, but i don't want to make him feel bad. he wouldn't understand about being alone. he thinks he does. i think he understands his kind of alone. the kind that he likes. but not mine. every alone is as different as all the different loners who make it.

what's his alone. i don't know. i can only guess that it has something to do with unexpected pregnancy, a hasty marriage, alcoholic father and a lot of deaths. but even knowing the partial reasons, i can never really know it. only the person can. and it can't be written or drawn or sung so that anyone else can understand.

what's my alone. it's nothing really. no profound tragedy. just who i am.

9-20-03 saturday 11:20pm brick NJ

i meant to say it to your face. and then when that didn't happened i thought a phone conversation would still be okay. i might yet. there's tomorrow. and you were in a hurry tonight.

i think that i have to go back for a while. maybe to see if i will really want to come back to this. maybe just to be alone again for a little while. alone isn't lonely. only lonely is. and i always find myself far more lonesome when there's someone there beside me. and i don't know why that is.

i hope that when i return again you'll still want me to. but if you don't i'll understand.

it's weird. i was just remembering wishing that i could know what it's like to be loved by someone. the kind where they fall deep into you. and now that it seems to have happened i'm thinking maybe i wish it hadn't. i should've known i guess. better to want something when you don't know yet how good it is. rather than to have to let go of something you know how much you love it.

cuz we both know this isn't forever. i'd like to think we'll stay friends. i think that we can. i've seen it happen. but regardless if, that doesn't make letting go of all those other feelings any less a bitch.

i meant to say it to your face cuz i think i owe you that much. but i couldn't do it. so i thought talking, the phone isn't too impersonal. just a few days. a week maybe to gather the pieces i have scattered. to figure out what i'm going through. and what i'm doing to you.

but then you claim to have that switch. you can turn it all off when you need it. so i should just go. cuz you can deal with it. and the longer that i stay the harder that it is. cuz you have that swtich. you can just turn it off that quick. but i don't. it'll be a long time getting over this. so i should probably get started.