Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 30, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

3-30-03 sunday 7pm brick NJ

if i could keep it brief could you stand then to read it? enough so to really understand what it means? if it only took a few moments of your time to take the verses and swallow their meat could you keep it down. could you stomach what i really am?

don't you ever wonder how it would taste? don't you ever hunger for something more than tv dinner sexcapades?

if i could say it in less words. just enough to give myself to you - would you keep me? would you take the verses that i am and find a page in your heart for them? would you or perhaps you already have.

tell me who you are when you're alone. and who you become when you're with me. how do those people differ? how do i make you feel? what do i make you want to be? anything?

3-30-03 sunday 9:20pm brick NJ

this is it? this is all there is. song and silence. rhyme and absense. this is it. tomrorrow comes just out of repetition. her purpose long since disposed of. yesterday likes to remember. to make us wish, but she can't promise anything except nostalgia and sadness. tomorrow keeps coming, but i can't look her in the face. tomorrow tries to kiss my lips, but i turn away. hoping she won't come back again.

this is it. this is all there is. drink and disdain. silence and song. waiting for the moment. waiting for the end. knowing it must be coming, just never knowing when.

this is it. this is all there is. all there ever has been. colors change. names do. memories collect their pennies, but their wishing well is empty. pages tabulate the years spent in vain. the words try to ressurect, but all they accomplish is this. this evidence of nothing. that this it. this is all there is. all there ever has been. days change. years do. memories gather their pennies, but their wishing well is empty. days change. years do. but nothing else ever does. this nothing. these songs in the darkness. these word written useless. this is it. all there is. all there ever has been.

3-30-03 sunday 10:15pm brick NJ

my only friend is this bottle i hold. and though i wear your bracelet that tells me otherwise. my heart can't make sense out of gifts. my heart can't believe in the money that you've spent.

my only friend left is the substance i abuse. i let it use me because it's so much easier than sobriety. i wear your bracelet that's supposed to tell me otherwise. i remember the moments that should say different. but i spend my life with these bottles. and you come only in your spare time.

it could be more poetic. it could metaphorize much better. but i''ve taken enough that i can't do that anymore tonight. thrid round and i'm about to be ko'ed. third round of writing and i'm too tired to keep telling you all the reasons why it's wrong. too tired to keep reminding myself of all the ways that it's right.

i can believe in your friendship in the ways that you determine such. i can believe in your love within the limitations your heart imposes. but in truth that leads me back to my beginning. my only friend is this bottle that talks to me while the nights are idle. i don't disbelieve your words. i don't mistrust your sincereity. i just know that your definitions are so very different. it's fine. i want to keep it, but that doesn't mean there isn't still more that i want. more that i need. that no one is willing to give to me. and even if they were. it would be useless if it didn't come from you. evern if someone else coudl. it would be useless if it wasn't you.