Dark Poetry Prose Poetry January 12, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

01-12-03 sunday brick NJ 10:45pm

pretending it's all casual isn't hard to do. watching the sky turn from pink to oragne is just another few minutes of living i might have otherwise done nothing with. no one understands that i don't need. i don't want anything. i'm crazy. that's what they say i am. but it's not that simple.

purple skies sing yellows songs. like when life is hazy because you make it that way. because anything is better than just being you. there are faces you can't remember. and some that you can't forget. thoughts tend to linger when the night becomes a stranger. she couldn't love you forever. you always knew, but you never thought the night would come when she'd have nothing left you love you. everything that you bargained for is lost in time like a memory without a picture. everything you clung to drowns in the new friends you have made. only they are so much harsher. only they are not so gentle. they smother, but they can't allay.

that face you see in the flickers between enebriation and sleep. it might be similar to mine. it might even be me. we go there together in our own separate capacities. alone is where we've always been, but never where we've hoped to be. alone is how we've come to be, but never how we imagined.

your world looms in that great distance you put between us. i gaze up at it every now and then like a distant star to wish upon. and i sometimes wish that i could make it fall from the sky. that it might feel that pull of gravity and the people that want. i sometimes wish that it could shoot across the heavesn and perhaps grant someone else's wish. because it seems quite apparent that it won't grant ours.