Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 7, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

10:30pm 03-07-04 sunday brick NJ

hours kept in cold demise. conversations wept through tired eyes. if i drink my pride from a bottle isn't that still better than none. if i feel guilty refusing, but cannot accept. i'd like to be able to love you again. because it sounds like you really need that. but i don't think that i can.

the past is unsettling like that. sometimes people who carry on into your present still feel like memories when you speak to them. and i find myself wishing that we didn't have to think about or discuss who we used to be. or what he'd like us to become. because i don't really believe it. anymore than i believe a ghost can be touched. and that's just what it seems he is now. or maybe always was.

and then i look at now. the living people. and i wonder are we sharing life or am i just draining.

some forms of happiness move much too quickly through our lives. i still want that back. but i guess i can't have it.

if you're not gone why can't i face you. if you never left why do i feel the need to reclaim you.

what am i to do. lie to myself until those lies become true. tell myself i don't want when i do. i guess i can do that if that's what you really want me to.

love kept in tattered cages. admissions wept on empty stages. i can lie and pretend i don't until it finally comes true. i can do that. i'd just rather i didn't have to.

i know it's only love and that it shouldn't really matter so much. but how i felt. how you made me feel. how you still do. how can anyone be expected not to want to feel like that as much as possible. how can anyone be expected to be strong enough to have the opportunity to feel that good and pass it up.

i guess i'm weak. i guess i'm a terrible friend. i guess i've let you down more than once and i'm likely to do it again.

03-07-04 sunday 11pm brick NJ

i think all the time. think when there's no reason to. i've even found myself thinking in the middle of an orgrasm.

i think all the time and it's mostly likely to my detriment. it causes me to ask too many questions. of myself. of others. it causes me to devise answers when an answer is the last thing the situation demands.

i think constantly. like some twisted emotional calculator. i can't stop. i must prove every theorum about life. i must bisect every triangle of emotion. i am the Pythagorus of love.

but nevertheless, i still think they're beautiful. each of them.

i think all the time. even when i don't want to. but for all my thinking i still sometimes get caught by love.

i think all the time. even when it would be better if i didn't. but for all my thinking i'm still wrong a lot. i still feel more than i'd like to.

i think about everything. every detail. i think a lot, but never seem to find anything out.

i think, but seldom come to any conclusions. i think, but what good does it do.

03-07-04 11:11pm sunday brick NJ

as winter learns to warm again so do i. i could've loved you then, but i felt i had to refuse. as daylight elongates nights expire. proper lives, if such could be, like frost on mountains. constant as eternity.

if i knew what i should want. knew what i shouldn't. if i only knew. but i never have. don't know that i can. hearts like flightless birds. flap their useless wings.

i guess i'm selfish because i just remember how it felt and want to feel that way again. it doesn't mean i won't refrain, but as we've already witnessed the strength of my will is easily outweighed.

i'm just a person afterall. maybe less so. flesh and blood and weakness mixing in an ugly cauldron. i'm just a body afterall. with a person inside of it. bones and marrow and muscle begging more than i am able to give them.

if we always know eachother. if it's never again more than this. i'd be thankful just the same. given time i'll be okay with it.