Dark Poetry Prose Poetry February 19, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

02-19-05 saturday 9:36pm

flatulant hearts releasing their odors into well fed lives.

the night pokes me. says what are you going to write.

but i'm caught up in the reading. and pontificating on the things poetry doesn't like.

there's little left to feel now. only long strands of memory that trail from the days gone by. old sweaters unraveling on me as i walk away from.

the words need a guide. a star to stare upon. i need something to feel. or someone. but there's nothing. no one.

time always seems to being going faster than i can. and it feels like my life ended, but left my body behind. they buried it. put my name on the grave. but the coffin had only my hope inside.

02-19-05 saturday 11:53pm

numb truth, in casts made of. broken bones healing right there in under your skin. as if change was ever a part of these lives that we've lived.

i think i listened too long and then my voice had forgotten what it was for. to hear myself or be heard by them. i'm not sure.

and it didn't really matter because i never really felt anyone was listening. how to know when the only indication of listening is silence. and that is all the time regardless.

eagers lives are better served by pursuing, but i've never found much retribution in. you move with the life that moves you, but are not always in time with it. and eventually you count the steps. realize how wide that gap has become.

there's nothing in the world. no one that could ever compel me to make that many steps. to go that far never knowing if they'd go as far for me. i know they wouldn't.