Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 11, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

3-11-03 tuesday 8:33pm brick NJ

that didn't last as long as it could have, but i guess i can't complain for anything i can get. the girl cries that she sometimes wants to die and i wonder is she looking in my head or do others wonder the same thing when...

rhythm and bass combine in an earthquake of emotion thunderous. profound. i feel nothing and everything. i feel you, but i'm not sure if it isn't just me.

when the reruns bequeath i sit beside myself and talk to me. when the music descends into the depths of my thoughts i sit at the edge of thier cliff and wonder how much pain there might be in the falling.

if i told you that i love you, then it shall always be. if i offered my friendship to you, then it will never be untrue. but i don't know to whom. i'm still unsure who i've given these things to. where in your sky my star should reside, if at all. where in your life my breath should go, or even if i should breathe.

it didn't come out exactly as we'd expected it might. it was long and far between the first stage and the last. it was a candle unattended that burned more quickly than expected. and the wax stuck to our heels. and the hot wax hardening on tender fleshy needs. it makes pictures in its drippings. and the pictures tell a story. i just still can't read it. i just still don't understand the language that it speaks.

i'm so tired of saying someday. so disenchanted with writing when it might. it's here. it's now. it's then. it's everything we've ever been. and will. right now. this is how. this is it. this is as good as it gets. my momemt of cliche turned into a lifetime of regret.

3-11-03 tuesday 9:18pm brick NJ

i told myself it was the last time. and i believed it then. still do i guess. i told myself that we'd been all that we can. and that anything after would only be a satire of before. i told myself this and i believed it. but now time pushes my lies back in my face and i wish that i could cry or just release somehow these false promises i have made.

if you are just you. and me, just me. then who could we ever hope to be? just a pair of forgotten hearts lost along the landscape of lives much too dark. as we make them. as we betray these wants. what else can be expected? what else can we have when we've decided to make mothing our everything? when you'd already chosen long before i'd ever had the chance.

cold medicine lies and molson tries to brefriend what is unreal. purple songs kiss the pink darkness against which. you'll never know. i know this. i say it a thousand times. every way to rhyme and still it doesn't attach itself to your heart. i put every piece of myself i can into it, but still the target is missed. you'll never know or you don't care. but i'd like to believe you're just too far gone. that it isn't me. that you've just forgotten how. that if now was then it'd all be different somehow. but now is just this. and it isn't.