Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 27, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

10:03pm 03-27-04 saturday

so talk to me now that all's gone silent. the night like bones without marrow. fragile and hollow.

but instead silence multiplies. all those words previously exchanged evaporate like so many puddles in the sun.

i just haven't much left to write about other than myself. it's come back to that place again. all those hands i held. all those body parts exposed. just another circle. it's returned me to its origin. i travelled around for 360 degrees of nothing changing. i went all those places. shared all those moments only to come back again to where i started. they took what i gave away with them. they took what i gave. and gave what they could. but nothing ever changed us. it just spun us around until dizziness won.

so why don't you talk to me now that it's all gone quiet. and i hate the sound of it. hear it humming beneath the music like the busy wings of a bee. defying the laws of physics. floating more weight than they should be able. just stubborn enough to do the impossible.

so touch me now that you've already touched every inch of my flesh. try to find some new place you haven't been. make it standout against the din of memory. touch me again now that it's been so long since. touch me like i didn't die when you stopped. as if nothing ever mattered until the moment you decided it was no longer worth the risk.

cause maybe that's all i have. all that means anything. just a blueprint in the darkness. a plan for construction that couldn't get a permit. cause maybe it really did feel just that good. but this is the very first time i've been able to admit.

so treat me just like take out food. tip the delivery person and hope that its still hot as you dig in. feed that hunger. those long days only seem to get longer. smell its arrival as its still approaching. imagine how good it will taste to finally consume it.

gorge and then purge your bulemic heart. swallow me whole, then throw me up. because you want the taste. crave the satisfaction, but you can't stand the thought of carrying it inside you.