Dark Poetry Prose Poetry January 4, 2006 Dark Poetic Prose
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Dark Art
your eyes slit these wrists and kill me so much better
than i ever did
knowing life is a scab, a crusty, bloody seal of a wound. and wanting so much to pick at.
Sad Poems
by the alcoholic poet.
wednesday 01-04-06 11:40PM
The flame was blue as coaxed the liquid. Turning skin to ink
in a breathless flow.
She averted her eyes back to when flames shone more than they burned, but it
was no use.
There was too much darkness.
So she counted on it vitriolic defiance. That the orange was passive and the
yellow something she could capture. If need be. If she ever lost it.
It was only the dark and she was sworn to it. Not to sleep tonight, but someday
if.
Not to know why the flame had died.
Just to be remember how it once looked.
Poetry
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Art/Sad Art 1
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the art of this
site neatly compiled into two pages.
Thinking
(Wanted To Say)
Feeling
(Just Words)
Always (You)
404 (error page)
Four Oh For
(human stain)
Such Unusual Ideas Caught In Dead Eyes
(Suicide)
Who? (To Whom)
What (I Want)
Why? Part 1
Why? Part 2
Why Not?(for scooter)
When?(for mcdoofus)
How?(for myself)
Extras
Old Poems
we have to go back!
God Jesus Satan
she sees God. He doesn't see her.
Savatoons Web Design
Deep Thoughts for the Day
Awesome Costumes for Halloween
sometimes
i think it would be nice to be fragile. then maybe once in a while someone would
be gentle
i feel so lost, especially when the sun shines, that
it accentuates how dark, how dark is my life.