Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 31, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

8:08am 3-31-04 wednesday

my eyes are just opening. it feels like they never closed. did i sleep last night or just lose consciousness for a while?

new voices chime. strangers straddling the path of friends. work and people begin to combine. it's hard to separate them.

death welcomes them, but they refuse. they wriggle free even in his grip. while my constant supplications go unnoticed.

she makes love to death, but will not wed him. death impregnates her, but it is a miscarriage.

even my love for death goes unrequited. death is supposed to take everyone. but even by him i'm rejected.

and i ramble on in staunch poetics when not distracted by other tasks. loving life not for the act of living, but how well it hurts me.

3-31-04 wednesday 9:03pm

subtler highs prevail like westerly winds. they thorw up the sand and make your eyes water as you lurch forward into them. truncated thoughts leave ellipses in your heart. caught in their wondering of what is to follow. fixated on how the sentence will close. worn out leather nights give under the weight of solitude. spin them as you do. like tops. watch the pretty prism of colors kaleidescoping and wait for it to drop.

if i had nothing else to do i guess i'd always be writing or sketching. taking pockets in my heart and making them into something. if i cared at all about the loneliness other than how it inspires me, i guess i'd have to choose you again. let myself lose to you. again be my own victim.

metaphors come alive as i transfuse my blood into them. intraveneing inanimate pages with the life that i have. perhaps it might live in the hands.

had i been anyone else other than this i wonder how then things would've been. if i could change persons for just a day and see how it is. it'd be interesting to see how other people live. and why they choose to. why they embrace it.

maybe it's just nothing more than a life stuck on pause. someone hit the play button and move me again. cuz i'm so sick of staring at that same single frame of the animation.

i guess you just didn't want to. since i know that you did. like an empty bottle you blow into it. it makes that eerie sound, but it hasn't anything else left to give.

9:30pm 3-31-04 wednesday

fractured images paint the screen in colors unfamiliar. apprehensive. jagged icons point to places inaccessible. memories not forgotten, but forbidden. am i to know those parts of myself again? it seems emminent. but i resist. keep the pictures abstract. keep the valve one direction. flowing out, but never in. release it all never knowing what. just bleed. wear the art like leeches. where it originates from of little importance.

don't you ever worry that time is getting tired of you. offended by how you take her for granted. don't you ever worry that she'll divorce you when you neglect her so. don't you ever fear that the tide will stop churning. that those letters you write in the sand will not be erased. walk the shoreline all alone. a silhouette of a person holding hands with the sunset. as the horizon softly fluctuates with your every step.

don't i deserve better from you. a little attention. a little respect. don't you deserve better from yourself. a little something more than alcohol and useless sex. something slightly more meaningful than yearly affection.

wear your crown of thorns just like jesus did. bleed your sins into the sand. take every nail in stoic submission. hanging limp from your crucifix while solitude becomes your heaven.