Dark Poetry Prose Poetry February 10, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

2-10-04 tuesday 8:47pm brick NJ

hold me now or never hold me again. an easy decision. an easy decision when your arms are empty either way. a long drawn-out parody of sex and magic is what it's become. a morbid allegory on the properties of flesh and the chemical reactions that take place within.

why i used to write i can't remember anymore. why i do now is not for these pages to defend. why i ever cared i couldn't even guess. why it's still prone to happen, more of a mystery yet.

you held me then, but you wouldn't hold me when. when it meant the most. you held me then, but when you let go, you've no idea how far i fell. you held me then, but when you let go, you were too high to see all the broken pieces you left below.

why i ever loved anyone i can't decide. maybe it's just that with certain people it's so easy to sometimes.

and why it matters if anyone has ever loved me i can't explain. and i can tell myself that it doesn't, but i don't really believe it. i can repeat my vows to aloneness, but my hearts betrays.

why it matters if anyone has ever loved me has little to do with if anyone has. it's not that it needs to happen, but that i need to know that it can.

there are two kinds of alone. there's the hotel that some people must rest in on their way back home. and then there's the graveyard where hearts are buried and then decay.

most people, if they are lucky, only pause once in a while at the hotel. but some people spend an eternity under that dirt. suffocating inside that grave. it's the difference between sleep and death. subtle, yet omniscient.

hold me now or never hold me again. because this corpse is decaying. you held me then, but when you let go the skeleton fell apart and no one was there to put it back together again. hold me now before these ashes scatter or else be kind and blow. give them up to the wind. because i'm dying. suffocating in this aloneness.

2-10-04 tuesday 10:24pm brick NJ

just break me open. like a thin eggshell. spill the yolk. scramble it. all yellow and fat and full of a life that hasn't happened.

just coax the shell. as if it listens. pierce the flesh. spill the contents. proteins and fat puddling like in the portrait of a life almost lived.

just break me open. consent that i am dead. i had my friends once. had my reasons for them. but things change. and people learn to adapt. i had my friends once. i really did. but things change. and we learn to accept. and we go without for the time being. and then all of a sudden the time being is forever. we go without thinking that a change will come. but then the time being becomes permanent. and all we can do is learn to live with the fact.

i know what i felt. and i know just how true it was. so forgive me if i don't care that much now about connections, but i just don't see the point in them. when they so seldom remain intact. i used to think that i was so cautious, but now i realize i was just isolated. i used to think that love came only once, maybe twice in a lifetime. but now i realize that i was being too generous. it's a wonder it ever does.