Dark Poetry Prose Poetry February 12, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

2-12-04 thursday 7:55pm brick NJ

i'm headlights in the sunshine. there, but unnoticed. present, but useless.

i thought that if i waited long enough things would be different. or i would. but i'm still that same outcast i always was. that fat little girl that the other kids made fun of.

i thought that being an adult would somehow be different. purpose. possibilites. new environment. but it's still the same. it never changes. i may as well still be that eight year old walking alone in circles around the condominium thinking about life's many woes. in some ways i think that i still am.

trenchant is the silence. and after all this while i must submit to its insights. alone was never a burden until i was no longer choosing it. but who wouldn't know that. it's just that i thought i'd always want it. and now that i don't. it's turned on me and now i don't even have alone to call my friend. alone is not the best of companions. but you know you're in trouble when even alone doesn't want you.

it's funny how years can pass and they never seem as if they are until too many have. and the things that you'd do that never seemed like much suddenly tally their score and you realize you've been beaten.

the people that i may have known. i'll never know for sure. like swimming in the ocean. you may think that you're riding the wave. but then what you thought was your high drills you into the sand.

it's just like sleeping with your eyes open. it's when you blink that everything happens. it's just like these words that shoot up on the screen. you're never quite certain if you've pulled them out of your vein or if you've put them into it.

several bottles later those tears are easier to contain. and all i can do is wonder at. because it never used to be that way.

twenty nine years later and this skin is starting to slack. every movement i make is recorded in its gaps. twenty nine years after life dragged me into it, i'm still looking for a way back. i still resent it.

voices cradle like graves. they say that i'm alive to them, but they treat me like a corpse. friends appear like dreams. false worlds take shape. eager hearts dance in vain.