Dark Poetry Prose Poetry April 10, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

04-10-05 sunday 8:42pm

something other than what you are. candy coated puke. sweet on the outside, but once you bite down.

i've always wanted to be able to say either i've found the reason. or else it's found me.

it's just like those nightmares i have sometimes. stuck in a basement. climbing a ladder. and every time i reach the top, there i am at the bottom again.

sometimes i'm deaf. i can't hear what they're saying. i think i'm better off then.

and sometimes i'm mute. i can't say anything i need to. and they just look away, pretend my mouth isn't moving.

but i'm never blind. and that's the worst of it. cause i see. even when i don't want to.

04-10-05 sunday 9pm

the wolf. it's in us all. ferile fangs of the heart. scents of weakness on the wind pull us toward the kill. perk up our ears. yearning the blood. the handsome dowery of fear.

the ram. it challenges us. broad horns in memory rear up and charge. sin's cloven hooves gliding gracefully over pointed rocks and precarious cliffs. taking us places we never imagined we could go. exchanging territories for bruises. the collision of lives.

the hart. it makes us yearn. wings spread. hope dances on the wind. gravity only a nightmare from which we've now awoken.

the angels and the champions. the villains and the innocents. we are all each of them.

dropping my puddles of grief now on the graves of the happy days come before this. i am my own funeral. i am my own priest.

heaven is some place existing only in our hearts. and hell everywhere else.

*inspired by the television series Angel

04-10-05 sunday 10:25pm

you lick the popsicle that is your life. and hope it won't melt too quickly.

agggregate moments attempt to create the whole.

thick cloud cover in your thoughts as you prepare your meager tent for the storm.

you can never drive the stakes deep enough to ensure they won't come up from the dirt. you can never get your hands dirty enough to offset how filthy they once were. or will be.

the zipper isn't sufficient. weak doorway in warring hearts. the nylon isn't thick enough. thin window pane against all that rain.

i don't need to forgive them. because they don't really matter anymore. i need to forgive myself. for having fallen for. for having let not listening to that alarm my head set off when they opened the vault.

they took everything. and it's all my fault.

they were just thieves. but i was supposed to be the guard. i drew my gun, but i couldn't fire. i let them get away.

04-10-05 10:55pm sunday

mockingbird. come mock me now. because i've failed again.

success is but a raindrop vanishing amonst thousands.

teach me why i should ever win. how i possibly can. lifetimes begging the world to accept what i myself never could.

that must be wherein the artichoke finds its heart under all those skins. here i am. bare as can be. and as willing to accept your hate as i am ready to accept your praise.

though i know it's not coming. still i wait.

becuase somewhere in the world. somewhere in someone there is more. more than what we have so far. less than dreams of suicide can boast.

mockingbird. you may mock me now. because i deserve it.

clay in the kiln not yet set. harden me. lord knows, i need it.

harden me.

then let go. see how gravity affects.

so many pieces. that once fit.

not anymore. leave your glue behind.

there's nothing worth mending.

forget your adhesives. it's not about reconstruction. it's about fitting in.