Dark Poetry Prose Poetry April 13, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

8:54am 04-13-04 tuesday

my hyper phases still linger in the morning after. my quiet life suddenly too much. someone was there, but it wasn't who i really wanted. true once, but not anymore. hearts continue to love, but at different angles. and it's sad now to think about how one day for you too, it will change form.

i don't want to be a party to love. not anymore. i just want to be the flower that someone picks to ask. pull my petals off one by one and know if. to be a reassurance instead of whatever this is.

i never overlook my own drama. see it quite clearly from both outside and in. and i never really recover from those hyper phases. one by one they steal a few drops from the well. steadily draining. it's not me, though it is. it's not me. just someone who resembles her.

don't hate alone. it's quite an amiable companion. hate wanting things that i can't have. ripping apart those tender feelings to find their center. extracting the marrow from them to transfuse it into these leukemia representations.

4-13-04 9am tuesday

i write in the mornings now. after i've finally shrugged off sleep. last night's catalysts still there in my head. tomorrow's stairways so very steep.

i write in my head when i'm not meaning to. walking down the stairs to fill my belly. or lost in beautiful music.

i write in the mornings again. like i used to do. before the night became my enemy. before the words lost hope too.

i write in the morning now. so sober. so acute. write all the time. while i'm walking. while i'm listening. while i'm defiling my love for you.

changing its shape. pulling off its skin. draining its blood. transforming it into another kind of love. and i hate it.

8:37pm 04-13-04 tuesday

don't know where i've been. if it was some place i wanted or just stumbled in. don't know where i was. how i found my way back again. only know that it was a lonely place.

raindrops sparkle under the glow of streetlamps. clinging to my window like a million tiny hands. just as tired clings to my head now. and apathy.

i need sex. and affection. and i need them together. not separate. i need love and friendship. and i need them both in one person.

i need life to be easy. easy like me. and cheap too. cheap like i am. but most of all i need rest. the kind you can't get just sleeping in your bed. i need peace. an end to this war in my chest.

8:54pm 04-13-04 tuesday

you wouldn't give in. just sat there stroking those same tired words like a used violin. and i just keep on asking. plucking on the same strings hoping to hear a different song, but the same one keeps repeating.

i just couldn't stand being that wrong. in that way. since i never had before. maybe i never really was right at all. maybe everything's been one really long mistake.

treat me like a caterpillar and i'm sure to make my cocoon. and i won't emerge again until. until there's a good reason to.

hate yourself all you want. it's something to do. or if not hate, then at the very least, disdain. everyone else does, so why shouldn't you.

smoke your life like a cheap cigar. filling your days with thick smoke and the heavy scent of a burning heart. and cancerous friendships that infect instead of mend. ashtray lovers for you to grind your butts into. smoke it with a glass of wine and let the ashes fall.