Dark Poetry Prose Poetry January 31, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

8:22pm 01-31-05 monday

you can't agree with anyone on everything. not even yourself.

connection seems more to solidify on differences than comonalities. or at least for me. i am drawn to those passionate disagreements that fire the mind like a combusting engine fires pistons. up and down to generate motion. power. heat.

there's a certain comfort in someone agreeing with you. too comfortable for me, i think.

i read that truman capote surmised anyone's heart can be won if persued doggedly enough. that no one can resist being 'loved that much'. and i agree, but only partly. most women are that sensitive. most men are not. a man pursuing a women that firecely is looked upon as gallant. a women doing the same toward a man, is seen as pathetic and desperate.

the world has always favored the male of our species. and perhaps always will. even nature favors masculinity. giving them greater physical strrength. no burden of menstruation or child birth. and society as well. men need not shave anything they don't wish to shave. legs, armpits, faces. hair anywhere on a man is accepted. even the ears and nose in old age. but women, most, fall into their carefully dictated roles, and shave their pits, their legs, wear heels and makeup, etc.

i used to try to be that kind of 'real' woman. but it never resulted in my happiness. so i gave it up. not that anything i do has resulted in my happiness. but if i'm going to be unhappy, i'm going to be it the easiest way that there is.

8:49pm 01-31-05 monday

your stone tongue doesn't say too much. heavy as it is. but still its weight serves purpose when the gravity in your life gets thin.

don't wonder anymore. what highs. what lows might be next.

expect nothing. no, expect even less.

the night, the darkness always convinces me that it's time to word myself again. pull those weeds out of my heart and find what seeds have broken the soil since planted.

the shadows testify both on my behalf and against. as i sit with them. and we trade our silent tales of one more night caught in the grip of the sun's cyclical prison camp.

we don't change the weather. it changes us. just like everything in the world outside does. even at those times that you feel you are a participant in, there's always one more valley between yourself and the life you thought you wanted.

but you're not sure. never really were. you just headed in the direction of your heart. never thinking it could be wrong. but so often. more than not, it is.

01-31-05 monday 10:13pm

pain. so intricate. spiders' web in your head. silken mazes that block the passage into your heart. passable, yet easily lost in.

the crow's wing. as south it fades. into a sun lost deep the blue of the sky. and the shortest of its cycles.

we grieve. others. ourselves. everything at some point. it all dies. leaves us. feeling hollow as those irrigation pipes we used to reroute life from plentiful side to the desert half of our lives.

and every word seems to betray my intentions quicker than i can finish what i've begun of them. but still, like a wronged wife. i remain. clinging to the belief that time. time will teach us to remember each other once again. like we used to. long before life forced upon us all those transitions we weren't ready for.

wings too weak for flight. snowflakes too early in december. the ground eating them alive.

all that effort. all those amounts of. just to watch it disappear as it attempts to touch our lives.

pain. a brief word, long in so many lives. everyone. stands close to it. even as good as it can get. it seems it's nearest then. stalking like a vulture. then hungrily picking at the remains. the flattened carcass of our so called happiness.

i guess i don't seek. or need. nor expect. anything to ever change like it did then. i was lucky. for those moments. brief as they were. they were greater than than i could've wished.

i don't mind forgeetting. or being forgotten. life asks. and time fascilitates the process. so much skin. and blood beneath. you try to bleed as little as you can. and when it spills. you apply that pressure. hopelessly waiting on those platelets to take effect.

it's only time pulling us on its leash. and us conected to her as we are. every day a collar around our neck. and we heel as she tugs hard. we are weak. and she is so strong. she is the master. and we are her dogs.