Dark Poetry Prose Poetry January 17, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

1-17-03 friday 8:22pm brick NJ

i watch television through my window. the world out there seems so surreal. some living, breathing picasso that hangs there taunting me.

i listen, but can hardly hear life's soliloquies. they can be quite beautiful i'm told, but i don't know. maybe i don't want to afterall.

does it rhyme? or is it more of a rhythmic poetry? when the moon pulls on your heart do its tides ebb or do they surge? i think about it, but i still can't decide. puzzling over every detail until they shun me. wondering at each heartbeat if it could be the one that changes me. holding my hand over the flame to see how long the burning takes. it hurts much less than the other pains. it can make you forget the other things.

everyday gives new words to challenge and amend this life that pools in my flesh. like rain dripping from the sky it collects in dirty puddles until the sun has time to dry it up. but it's been so long since the last time that the sun appeared. it's been so long since the last time that you had the time to really shine on my life. it's always raining except when you're here. it's always raining. always has been. why'd you have to make the sun come out. leaving me thinking it might return again. why'd you have to show me the sun and leave me always wanting. why'd you have to shine so bright and then leave me in the dark again. why'd i have to know what it's like if it could never be a part of my life. why'd i have to feel that way when it could never really be mine.