Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 16, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

9:05pm 03-16-04 tuesday

chirping voices. like car alarms engaging and disengaging. are we on guard tonight or are we anxious to drive?

salty grains of sarcasm add flavor to otherwise mundane conversation. ocassionally hitting open wounds. but a little pain is to be expected.

sometimes every wrod comes out wrong. it's not that i didn't mean what i said. just didn't mean for it to be so harsh.

when march is cold. when in march it snows. it doesn't make the winter longer. but it does steal away some of summer.

when flesh eager. but lives reluctant. it doesn't make the sadness greater, but it steals away some of the pleasure.

i should not have been born. almost wasn't. shouldn't have survived those first few days of life, but still i did. and though i keep asking, don't think i'll ever know why.

shouldn't have been me. should've been anyone else. but here i am all these years later still talking to myself.

hands on your neck. a frightening concept. at least when you're aware of it. hands on my neck tend to make me very uneasy, unless.

i got nothing. all out of ideas. i look at the pages and wonder how it lasted all these years. i look at all the complaining and think, just get over it. i look at myself and hate what i see in.