Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 16, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

3-16-03 sunday brick NJ 9:23pm

it's another day so much like
all the others we've let sink under our skin
without acknowledging the poison
that they give;

it's just one more sunday
amongst thousands that have
taken these lives and
made shadow puppets out of them;

i feel you there alone in your vanity;
so sure that what you want -
everything you might will always be
at arms reach;

i am just the candle and
your are the flame,
without you i am dark,
but without me you
have nothing to spark;

it's a world away
and a breath too close,
the division of friend and foe
is something some lives
can never know;

the separation of
lover and friend,
reason and passion
is something some hearts
will just never understand;

i write be it couplets or sentences... i write without purpose. only notions caught in the freshest wounds of my heart. i write be it brief or verbose. without a goal. only the throbbing of scars that are begging to be picked apart.

for years. every moment that i've felt you in my life i've sought the words. the right words that might. all the while knowing none could. that meant to be was something far and away from where we meet. for years i've struggled with the reconciliation of what i feel with what we can be. what you're willing. and what i know i am. songs would try. verses would portend. but still the battle rumbles on softly in the furthest reaches of a friendship i still don't know why we keep. a connection i feel so surely real, but the actuality does not present itself to me. the love i feel just must be true, but the magic of something far beyond the minimal reach of i or you.

sometimes the phrases stop with commas and with semi colons,
and sometimes they go on as if they mean much more than they can;
sometimes the words like to rhyme and other times they're just too tired
to bother with the burden of being so fucking poetic;

sometimes you're there real as can be,
not just the feeling i often have,
and when you are i have to fall back,
fall back and wonder why,
why you suddenly chose this day
to give me a chance to be with you again;
i have to ask myself why among all
the chances we could have,
you let them fall so far between;
i have to hold back and wonder why,
why it's been so long and how much
further away the next time might me;
seeing as i have how the distances
steadily grow exponentially -
that eventually we might never,
and i hold back from telling you,
as you're there eye to eye -
flesh to flesh - i have to stop myself
from blurting out i love you,
i have to think instead of feel
when i'm with you,
it's so dangerous to feel
laying together as we
occasionally do,

i have to question what keeps you
from the thing you insist you want,
i have to suspect that whatever your reason,
it can't be something good,
i must suspect that whatever your reasons,
you're probably correct in keeping them hidden,
that it can't be something i'd be glad to know.

but where in firendship does love enter?
where in love do lovers learn to be friends?
how in the world does anyone ever
find a reason to give themselves to another?
i don't know, though i have,
i can't see why even though i've done it,
i still question my own motives,
i still wait for when you'll break me again;
i still am i certain that everything wonderful
i find in you can never outweight
all the ways love finds to make it ache.

if in my words i seek that which in my
life i can never be, if in my words i can become
that which reality would not allow me;
could you then love what i write, even
if you can't love the person?
if in these phrases there resides a
person much better trapped within,
could you find it in your heart to love them,
even if this bag of flesh is so much less than you wanted?

if the phone lay silent longer than
i thought it would,
if the phone sleeps much too silent
as i wonder where you can,
where it is you have been;

amongst the stars or
caught in your thoughts,
amongst the past like a
dream we've had,
lost in a kiss ages old,
lost in a love now a ghost,
will you ever love again
anything real?
will your heart ever heal
enough to touch who
touches you?

melt the songs like incense -
let them burn, their fragrance
fill your room with scents
of emotions you no longer can,
or are willing to;
burn the nights like cigarettes -
let the room fill with their cancer
as if it might yet kill the remains
of the feelings that still persist,
those feeling that beckon when
there's nothing to distract you from them,

it's a long hard road to solitude
trapped in your life's two door coupe,
it's a long lonely road to death
driving alone in your mercedes benz;
fill it with xananx and wine as if
they will forfeit the memories
haunting you,
as if any drug can purge your heart of
the photographs it has developed;

i miss you more than you can understand,
every minute you're not here is a minute
i wish i had never had,
every day you explain went by without me,
is a shadow i put into my heart
to fill the darkness your void leaves;

a friend in need is the sort of friend
you may someday be,
but until then i lay in wait
like a dream waiting for
you to awake,
a friend in truth is what
you might someday become,
but until then i wait like
a song waiting on its chrous;
someday we will repeat,
but until then,
the bridge will be enough,
until then, the verses we
have so far composed
will suffice, until or if
ever again you'll play
that song with me.