Dark Poetry Prose Poetry January 6, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

9:09pm 1-06-05 thursday

i'm so easily disappointed.

the tiniest bruise lasts for decades.

the smallest scrape feels like a gushing wound.

it's my fault. i know it is.

but that's just the wood i'm hewn from. it gives too easily. holds every indent. shows every imperfection.

time makes its miter cuts. to join the outside corners that meet us.

but the inside ones. coping is so much harder to do. try to mimic that profile. but as close as you come, there are always gaps in the connection.

the outside corners are so easy. a simple case of 45 degrees. but the inside ones. all those valleys and bumps to recreate. the inside ones never quite match up.

10:07pm 1-06-05 thursday

all those roadmaps you draw into yourself. carefully detailing every intersection. how can you not know by now what roads to take. how much farther it is.

i never meant any harm.

just got all caught up in the act of living. can you blame a ghost for being so enthused with another few minutes of life.

never wanted tomorrow. only now.

and so what i wished, i did get.

broken stairways up to empty heavens.

no words to speak. only pages that would idle. pop the clutch. make their tires squeal.

parable hearts leading aesop lives.

always waiting on a moral. a justice that isn't ours to feel.