Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 29, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose
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Dark Art
your eyes slit these wrists and kill me so much better
than i ever did
knowing life is a scab, a crusty, bloody seal of a wound. and wanting so much to pick at.
Sad Poems
by the alcoholic poet.
11pm 03-29-05 tuesday
fetid moments. what in our lives once was fresh. rotted now. like so much dead flesh.
i don't need to know to know what i always have. words puff out their chests. to appear bigger than they are.
but they're not stronger than us. they're just holding their breath.
i don't want to find out what it is i lack. because then i'd be inclinded to want that. and it''d be such a shame to spend the rest of my life trying to figure out how i night obtain something i can never have.
fetid moments lay in the compost bin. incrementally minutes turn to hours. solids become liquid. and all that was so precious then becomes fertilizer for the next.
Poetry
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Art/Sad Art 1
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the art of this
site neatly compiled into two pages.
Thinking
(Wanted To Say)
Feeling
(Just Words)
Always (You)
404 (error page)
Four Oh For
(human stain)
Such Unusual Ideas Caught In Dead Eyes
(Suicide)
Who? (To Whom)
What (I Want)
Why? Part 1
Why? Part 2
Why Not?(for scooter)
When?(for mcdoofus)
How?(for myself)
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we have to go back!
God Jesus Satan
she sees God. He doesn't see her.
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Deep Thoughts for the Day
Awesome Costumes for Halloween
sometimes
i think it would be nice to be fragile. then maybe once in a while someone would
be gentle
i feel so lost, especially when the sun shines, that
it accentuates how dark, how dark is my life.