Dark Poetry Prose Poetry January 3, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

1-03-02 friday 8pm brick NJ

until i die. i am almost alive. you look at me and tell me what life you see.

until we admit we're still liars believing our own pretense. until then, you look at these lives and tell me what you can contrive.

purple skies melting into the earth. like ghosts breathing their sorrows into the atmosphere. it's palpable. the feeling of that final reason slipping through my fingers. as if i closed my eyes but could still see. as if i stopped breathing, but life still insisted within my flesh.

forget me not, but remember nothing. who we are is who we have to be.

and when the orange waves of dawn break open my mind again i'll pose no questions. i'll just take all the answers i've collected and throw them on the fire to keep it burning. keep us warm when winter returns again. because it always does even if you stay inside.