Dark Poetry Prose Poetry January 4, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

1-04-04 sunday 9:45pm brick NJ

it's cold just like your heart beats when you open yourself to solitude. can count your friends on no fingers. when the lingering heat of sex is all that remains after. after they've left.

maybe you asked for it. maybe you invvited it in. but only because. only because there were no better alternatives.

it's limp like a life is when it sees no future and wishes its past didn't exist. limp and numb like an overcooked sausage. someone hungry enough will eat it, then vomit it back up a few hours after the fact.

don't tell me how you care. don't offer the love you can't afford to spare. just admit that i'm alone. just say that i was just a place to deposit. i'm hurting anyway. always have been. so i'd prefer to hurt on the truth. i'd prefer to hate all of you instead of myself, but it just doesn't work.

it's empty like the bottles. like the ringing when i answer. faded people. desperate diatribes on how their lives have gotten away from them.