Dark Poetry Prose Poetry February 11, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

02-11-05 friday 8:25pm

days of the new. days of the old. no matter where you plant yourself. it's still same tree that grows.

those leaves that dance within as you breathe. what color are they now. what color are they turning.

is it autumn now? could it be? has that much time passed since.

what calendar does the heart live by? lonely is measured in what increments? what's harder? is it the waiting or just the living with?

don't i feel and therefore am felt by. some mystical connection between the cells of all mankind.

am i invinsible... both to eyes and mind. that you walk right through me unflinching. walk away as if i never existed.

how could it have ever mattered then, if it does't matter now? what you loved once. shouldn't that always be so. could it be that love never dies, but somehow forgets. time tugging on its weary mind until it's broken every last thread.

02-11-05 8:42pm friday

they forget, but i tend not to. dangling participles in the heart. feelings unfinished.

or else they make it seem so. and why shouldn't they. there's not much to remember.

cut flower of a person dying slowly in time's curvascious vase. blooms opening at last only to wither away.

i don't know when i ever was. or if i ever can. like a dream i can't wake up from.

i don't know how it ought. or if it could ever be. life isn't giving to us. it's always needing.

02-11-05 friday 9:20pm

the lines in my palm change. go from deep to shallow.
i make a fist, open it up. and everything is different. what of my fate connected to it. is it really. or just dreams of fools on quivering lips.

catch me now as i fall to earth again. lost in the gravity's course. no arms there. the ground approaching rapid. guess i'll hit again. no one willl. break me now. as i splinter. fractured. the fall is over. no one there. just the music as it listens. it to me. and i to it. passive friend. content to watch as i drown in the shallow end.