Dark Poetry Prose Poetry February 21, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

2-21-04 saturday 7pm brick NJ

it's hard to fathom. hard to accept. even harder to swallow. you've always known that there are people like that. who hurt others just for the sake of. or take pleasure from it. but you never think you'd ever open yourself to them. you go through your life thinking that you have some sort of insight. into humanity. that your soul is so earnest and steadfast you'd never fall for someone like that. you go from person to person. face to face. thinking you're reading them. seeing. but then one day someone wrong gets inside and you realize that all along you've been blind.

2-21-04 8:20pm brick NJ saturday

i know that one beer is not nearly enough. and you know just how many it takes to reveal that tender spot.

like movies without music i'd lay back and try to discern what was missing, but until someone adds it, you never realize how important the background is.

like drawings all in black and white. they're just lines. everything is. just lines crossing and engaging. curved or straight is all that decides how the picture will be different.

like pages lives never turn. the words are there, but during some chapters it's neccessary to avoid the hurt.

like that last droplet of self-prescribed liquor store happiness. it tastes so much different, so much emptier than all the ones before it. and another bottle will stave off the minutes a little longer until. another picture may make the feelings clearer to you, but everyone sees the image in their own perspective.

i know that you know just what you want and what you don't. and though you'll never give me the satisfaction of knowing, i've ideas of my own. i know that you knew from that very first taste. just how much it would take to quell the craving. just how many bites it would take to empty this plate.

2-21-04 saturday 10:55pm brick NJ

your world and mine. they collided. it was a beautiful explosion.

but now all we're left with is the shrapnel. the victims. the fallout.

i think that because we were a part of the bomb it's hard for us to see anything outside of. i think that even weapons mean their best when. but that can't change who they are.

your life and mine. they met in the middle of a meteor shower. it was fascinating to witness.

i think that because we were a part of the dsectruction we can't ever understand what was destoryed by us. i think that when you're that much a part of the damage, it's impossible to know anything else it's done.

it was everything i wanted. and nothing that i couldn't stand. like tearing pages in half just to get rid of the paragraphs that you couldn't understand. i was alive and happy for a blink and then. but what really is happy when it's so dependent upon other people. how is that really happy.

if you meant well. if i did too. it didn't halt the chaos when reality came running through. we dove. we broke the water's skin. and in that entry there were droplets that landed on harder surfaces.

i think that the world is made for certain kinds of people. to please them. and then there are the rest. who will never fit intto its agenda. who try as they might don't really have a place in it.

you can say i think too much. gee, i haven't heard that before. but when you think about it, we only think as much as time permits. we only think when every other method has abandoned us.

i think that tomorrow never meant to promise us so much. that she's always been a liar, but she never meant to truly hurt anyone. she's just hopeful, unlike me. she's just a believer in better things to come. and i pity her most of all. because she tries so hard to heal us, but she never does.