Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 25, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

3-25-04 thursday 8:30pm

stealing glances from windows high above. cartoon people gather their mail. hush their car alarms. i think the night lied when it said that it could take me in. hide these scars. conceal this emptiness. it's proved even weaker than i.

stealing friends from the pauses in their lives. even when i answer the phone, still we are disconnected.

i only know this. that yesterday couldn't keep its promise. and tonight wears the mark. i only know this. that people are just people afterall. full of need and weakness. wanting too often to give what they can't because they own such a profound desire to receive it.

riding in cars. sitting in chairs. laying in the dirt. most of life happens when you're not there. most times love wants more than it deserves.

03-25-04 thursday 10:34pm

weather forecasts. weekend plans. if i only had some. life happens then. if you're that fortunate.

will it rain or will the sun shine. depends upon what is your sky. depends upon what you're hoping to find.

weathermen and their predictions. friday nights and saturday afternoons. will you want to wake up then. or would it be best if you stayed in bed. will it rain or will it shine upon those fragile expectations.

weekend plans. i don't think i've ever had them. didn't really think i needed them until recently. don't think that's there's ever been anyone so eager to be with me that they'd dedicate two whole days of freedom.

weekend plans. the predictions of the meteorologist and the annotations in life's contract. something to do. something to look forward to. a reason to make it through monday and tuesday and the rest. sun amongst the clouds. truth amongst all those so called friends.

weekend plans. that's what the television said. all i could do was wonder at. how friday and saturday are different for some. how sunday could be more than it has offered.

it fades out like an angry song that never quite made its point. it stumbles like the notes do as they try to promise what they know could never be true. lost refrains search for the bridges they've set fire to. weekend plans - never knew what i was lacking until i heard it from the weatherman.

cold glass betweeen my fingers proves. a stark rainbow of ways to lose. the songs beat on in their selfish frenzy. begging explanations i cannot afford. it should've been more, but that just didn't happen. it maybe ought to have been something special, but that chance is gone now. this is what we're left with.