Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 31, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

03-31-05 9:35pm thursday

i'm kicking the past like an empty tin can. reveling in the echo as. now that all its contents have been consumed. and the label it still wears is just one more among so many used to be trues.

kick the can. listen to the nothing rattle. outside and in you.

calculate the hollow as you listen to it groan.

the circumference of the empty is equidistant to the perimeter of the loss. divide by memory and tabulate your cost.

so many footsteps between the first kick and the last. friction tugs against your progress. knocks over those pillars you've set in the sand.

the road's wide open, but all the intersections are closed. every traffic light sings a yellow song as you grab your partner for that telling waltz.

rose between lips of glass. so that none of those thorns matter at all. more wind than ground under your feet. as you dance on the wings of failing dreams.

03-31-05 thursday 10:30pm

deal me. turn me over like cards. show your hand. i'm not so interested in winning as i am about proving we're wasting our time.

just looking at the sky when the rain turns it purple.

a glove on the hand as the fist curls.

i don't need. neither do you. but the cycle pulls us in. what shall i want next. breeding. breeding like toenails. growing while we sleep. begging to be clipped before they turn in on their source.

i should hate, but i'm not able. i shoud forget, but i find myself incapable.

dancing with the gauze that time will spread across the lens. everything is blurry. but it's so much better than i remember.

sucking on the nipple that life has shoved between my lips. im hungry. i am. but i still want to taste, not just swallow it.

turn around. shed your skin. maybe then i'll be able to discern what of you is genuine.

i'm wearing the tuxedo, but the party's not inviiting me.

i'm nothing. nothing at all to them.

and to you. everything. or at least i hope. you convince. in your acquiescent fashion.

there's everything to want. but nothing that i can.

there's tomorrow like a rabid dog. drooling all over. and throbbing with ticks.

put it down. before it bites. and we get sick.