Dark Poetry Prose Poetry January 1, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

1-1-03 wednesday 8:50pm brick NJ

mornings rise like crashing tides. and the nights that much hungrier than the last. there are motivations and there are temptations. and often they share the same stage. often the part they play utters that same soliloquy your life has long since memorized. beautiful, but crushing. everything you thought you needed giving you a million reasons why you can't have. why you never will.

the infant year lays in our arms crying like a baby wanting feeding. but these breasts are dry. it will starve just like all those passed. not for everyone, but most certainly for you and i.

those days that i remember wistfully as the somber songs dance through the darkness. those feelings that i mourn beside as we attend the funeral for another year of my life. they're the only thing keeping me alive. the rush of the sorrow. the ache of the pain as it scurries through my veins searching for the soft spot in my heart that will let it inside. let it find that vulnerable place to plunge its final knife.

the days don't know the difference. only we who mark them. the years don't grow older only this flesh that we inhabit. time isn't escaping. it's smothering us. this year's only just begun, but already we're thinking maybe the next one will be different. this year has just been born and already it's dying. dying because i don't know how to live it. but we can't kill it. so we wait. for it to kill us.

if another candle's flame should never find its way to light this room that's okay. so long as the music i seek can still be heard. so long as the rain that falls weeps that much more than i do. because it's no good being the saddest of them all. thankfully the sky. the nights always have more pain than i have. thankfully i am too mortal. they must weep forever. but at least someday i will be allowed to die.

it was just born, but it's much older than you or i. it's still an infant, but has had so much life. mornings threaten like bullets in mid flight. and the nights that much harsher than you ever suspected they could be. take your solitude to bed with you. because no one else will share those sheets with you. make that solitude your best friend. you'll need it when no one else is willing to.

i don't know where this should end. or even where it began. that is, if it ever did. i don't know you at all. and i never have. that was just another game. another song we couldn't sing. you keep on using as you see fit. i hope that someday it spawns someting worth keeping. until then you can always remember when. when i first saw your face. when all that light broke open my heart and dared to bleed it again. unlike the last time. so rich and red. so deep and thick. like a raging river looking to drown me. all that i could feel and then some. i've always been a poet, but you made me see why. i've always had these verses, but you gave them a reason to rhyme again. just another tragedy to ignite the candles i had always been buring. just another sad song to whisper along with when the distractions have all given up.

could it ever be again. that which i remember from way back when. just a child on the verge of. people don't know love. it just knows them. people don't make love. it makes them. if they are so fortunate. and with everything. with all that's been. there are no reasons to wish it hadn't. as beautiful as pain has ever been. even moreso. the sweetest ache rising in my chest like a sun about to crown the sky. it lit up my world for that brief while. but as every sun it too must set. like every great poem it too must end.