Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 23, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

7:58am 03-23-04 tuesday

the alarm clock greets me in the morning. screams at me to wake up and live. i kiss that first cup of coffeee and pretend it's a happy marriage.

but she knows about my mistress. in the morning we'll find her empty glass clothes on the desk. the night and the alcohol are gone for the duration of daylight. but they'll be back again.

the world is yellow and bright. full of gentle shadows. morning. everywhere alarm clock's are yelling. and first kisses of the day are lying.

that first cup goes so quickly. so i fetch another mug full of waking. of make me appear living. every morning i am a person. like all of them. sober and tired. caffinated and dependent. then every night i become different. much too human. undressing distilled lovers one sip at a time. digging deeper and deeper for the numbness they once supplied.

03-23-04 tuesday 8:45pm

there's worse than alone. there's alone even when you're not. shadows prevailing upon. there's much worse than simply alone. there's alone no matter what. all the people in your life only hazy memories of a time when life was whole.

it's not original sin that scars us. it's original misery. because every life, even the best, seems to be in a constant battle with all that seeks to belittle it.

the sad are the majority. the lost outnumber the found. why not band together and find solace? because they can't. such is the contruction of their temperament.

environment and physiology meet in a tornado of lives occuring. the depressed are the majority. the hopeless outnumber the hopefuls. but they stand alone still. always have. since that is their affliction. the very things which should unite them, keep them separate.

03-23-04 tuesday 8:54pm

inhale just once more if you can. for me. to take the air that life insists. take it into your body so that i can feel you live.

exhale just once more before you leave me. breathe out your anxiety into me. let me carry it for a while. so that you might get some rest.

you think you know. think you've lived so long that there's nothing you haven't. maybe so. maybe so, but then again, maybe not.

hurricanes don't hit just once and then never again. and lightning does strike the same spot more than once. it turns sand to glass. it makes the sky cry out. it screams so loud, but cannot hear itself.

you can hold your breath for as long as you like, but the surface won't be any closer. the undertow will keep pulling you further. you can try to swim. try to navigate the flood waters. but you'll only drown pretending they were less than they were. you might get very far, but you will be swallowed. they are much more powerful than you are.

3-23-04 tueday 9:04pm

trying to remember myself. watch the satellite hovering around my head. it's visible only at night. only after all those suns have set.

trying to remember only because i need someone to talk to. even if it's only myself. need someone to help chart all these empty hours. can't do it alone.

memory's stock photographs do nothing to enhance this tattered album. life's cliched anecdotes no longer suffice. oneway eyes. oneway loves. they lead you forward, but you can't go back the way you came. they take you places. they really do. but they leave you stranded. they offer no escape route.

tailgaiting friends follow the game. cheer from the parking lot. no idea what's actually happening. more content to follow the idea of rather than the actual event.

only the dead know better than i do how hard it can be just breathing. cuz the ones like me, they always end up dead. should they be saved. can they be. that's something only their ghosts know. that's the crater it makes that no amount of forgiveness can ever fill.

people like me, i think there are some. but most keep to their own private hells. don't bother with the real world. people like me, there might be many. but they mostly just keep to their own worlds. afterall, what can this world do for us.

it may be meant to be. it might just be that the medications are a lie. superimposing false images atop the real pcitures as they steadily filter through the bloodstream. maybe it's better to die just when you feel you should rather than perpetrating a life through mood altering drugs.

i couldn't really make that judgement. it depends upon your circumstance i would suppose. what victims would be damaged in the aftermath. how far the repurcussions.

jasmine. it only blooms at night. faulkner loved it. and so do vampires. it's sweet and austere like a virgin with an attitude. it blooms in darkness. like some people do.

i miss the people that i used to love. wish that i still could. all too brief orgasms of the heart. i miss how i used to love them. despise how time defiles it. just like the phenomenon of tolerance. it takes everything good and makes it less.

because i'd rather lap at that sweet intense pain for the duration of my days than to feel it fade like the a failing song. i try to keep it alive, but time is much stronger than i. i don't mind the pain. i just hate watching the feelings die.

3-23-04 tueday 9:49pm

ask how, as if how cares about you. ask when, certain that she's listening. but they aren't. only the voices in your head. nothing outside of that ever seems to penetrate. you think you felt something, but then you realize you were only dreaming. you think for a moment that shadow was more than just a trick of light. but then it crawls away into the darkness. and you know that it was just teasing you. alluding to a light you'll never know.

even steel bridges will give. leaning towers can still lean further yet. i really did think that i'd come to terms with everything that wasn't. it all seemed so obvious. but then it looked at me again. it questioned and i didn't know the answers. it asked for just one reason, but i had none.

you can dig your excuses lke ditches. til everything is buried. you could i guess. if you had that much stamina. but no matter how much you have, the hollow is stronger yet. it has no one to answer to and so many questions to ask. like the seasons one passses the burden to the next. they share their burdens while we must carry ours alone. they scatter their pain, while ours steadily unfolds.

see the storms in the past. and those in the future. a freefall of rain that laughs at the tears we can't cry. life we expect will be unkind, but not people. life we expect to disappoint us, but not friends. life we always suspect of trying to undermine us. all we have is the people who will countermand that.

keep your rosebuds. let them bloom. taste the thorns. let them bleed you. it's okay to bleed, but only so much. it's easy to bleed. so inherent to what life has made of us. just be careful. don't let yourself lose too much. just don't let it jeopardize your happinesss.

i've been wrong. don't i know it. been a liar on occasion. butterfly lives flutter and cause tornados. maybe when it's calmer then. this flight might fnd its purpose. but until then, remember what you love. and love it. even if it isn't lovable at the moment.