Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 4, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

3-04-04 thursday 8am brick NJ

mornings soaked with too much rain,
mornings like sponges absorb my grief,
always waking up to find the world is still alive,
the world is alive, alive for everyone but me;

they read them, but are my words prophets or liars?
they read them, but i speak and contradict their message,
who's the liar and who is true?
they don't know,
but i do.

3-04-04 8:45am brick NJ thursday

i'm only a blank page craving ink,
the words fall down like raindrops
and fill me, but still incomplete;

i'm only a pen that bleeds
to fill empty pages,
the thoughts flow like open wounds
without bandages;

i'm only me, that's all,
what else could i hope to be?
i'm only a poem that you may recall
when you're feeling lonely;

i'm only an unmade bed
yearning the warmth of a body,
they come, they lie down inside,
but still i am empty.

03-04-04 thursday 9:45pm brick NJ

why? why not?

how ugly is life as it stammers for it.

how beautiful it might be in death.

i wanted to tell them. to not lie. to admit who i am. but nights are dark. and flesh needs flesh. it's one thing to know that you are different. quite another to say it aloud. it's all right knowing you'll never know them. but much harder to let them know you know it.

i saw this kid today. who was one of the litltle kids back when i was one of the big ones. but he's a grown man now. and supposedly i'm a grown woman. he once was one of my playmates, but he's my older brother's friend now.

if my brother hadn't told me i'd never recognize him. and i'm sure he wouldn't remember me. even standing right there infront of him, i'm not certain that he did.

the years that came between us are nothing really. we were never that close. but how very different each of us has become. that's what's astonishing. it's as if those kids that we once were never really existed. it feels like every day is a new world complete with a whole new set of victims.

i hear myself sometimes when i'm talking. listening. crass paratrooper invading enemy terriotry on an uneasy wind. i hear myself and let them tell me what they hear. and it causes me to question just who i am. what i am trying to hide and what is being mistakenly admitted.

maybe it takes that many years just to know the people that you know. maybe it takes a lifetime to realize that you can't know any of them. only what they want you to see. only what the most tender portions of the mind inadvertently bleed.

just wonder why sometimes. why bother. with the conversations. why taunt this heart with droplets of a drug it can only be happy drowning in.

i wonder. i can't help it. why me. why call. why speak or listen. when we're only staving off the obvious. when we're only avoiding having to process that we won't feel that way ever again.

3-04-04 thursday 10:30pm brick NJ

it's hard to think about how these conversations represent the end. much as they're meant to continue the agenda they only emphasize it's failure.

you can take the poet out of the poem, but you can't take the poem out of them. you can take the girl out of the loneliness, but you can't make it last. no one could. and certainly not you. give your circumstance.

i wish that i could know why. why it started. my fault i guess. in many ways. but not only mine. i would like to know why it goes on as it does. not that it isn't appreciated. just that i don't understand it.

because i know if i were you i wouldnn't have any need to know someone like me. because i know that if i had all that you do i'd run home to it. wouldn't have time for liars and misfits.

i'd never ask you to leave, but still the same i don't see a reason for you to stay. much as i a need friend, they're not oblidging. those talks don't go unnoticed. it's just that talk is hollow. talk i have had plenty of. what else do you have?

much as i like our antagonistic conversations, they tend to turn me into someone i am not. much as i appreciate your effort, life doesn't care about effort. it cares about success.

where could this go. what could we become. that same nothing that we've always been. i know that you want to win. but you can't ever win betting on me.