Dark Poetry Prose Poetry January 16, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

01-16-05 sunday 11pm

the pattern within is the pattern without. formulating as you will the sanctity of your prison. bars not locked, but bars even still.

you can leave. anytime you want. but you never will.

i have lived. as much as anyone can. it wasn't as good as i had heard.

and i have died. many times. it draws me to it. like an opposite magnet. i can't help but be attracted.

i can feel life threading through my mind. each minute a new stitch. i can see it. living like the sun on the horizon. rising as it must. then later sinking below it. and endlessly repeating this process.

it seems more a torture than a gift. some godless penance like atlas with the world on his shoulders. or sisyphus with his boulder.

perhaps all that mythology was not such a myth. rather only a metaphor for how futile life is.

1-16-05 sunday 11:51pm

time never really mattered til your spare tire of it went flat.

never noticed the course your life had until it went off from it. and there you found yourself. freckled with happenstance. wondering if any were an indication of cancer.

i can breathe. i can create and ask. pseudo artworks for sale cloaked in storefront masks.

can brood. lost in the self. imaginging how ugly it'd be should i ever look in the mirror again and see myself looking back.

friends never seemed so important as when there were none left. like steps you would ascend. the higher they take you the further you feel from them.

i guess people don't really like me. when i talk of death like a savior. i guess it turns their pink hearts all black. rips the color out of the happiness they suppose they have.

i do understand. they want to live. but i don't. it's an affront to everything they believe in. themselves. their little children. but to me, they're just selfish pursuits. any animal can reproduce. that's not superiority. not evolution.

most anyone can have a child. but few can live without one.

so desperate to fill those holes in themselves. they force their discontentment onto someone else.