Dark Poetry Prose Poetry April 17, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

04-17-04 saturday 8:36am

caught still holding the dream after it's gone. waking doesn't happen when you open your eyes. the process is a lifetime long.

does love need sex? or does sex need love? or perhaps neither. they both being primitive mechanisms leftover from our neanderthal ancestors.

8:24pm 4-17-04 saturday

it's yesterday making love to tomorrow. that's what now is. the fabrication of need compulsively integrated into the act of living.

i look at myself and question am i healthy or not. i read the books. manuals on normalcy written by flawed human beings. i see in myself exhibitions of both healthy and unhealthy behaviors and feelings. noting that they fluctuate rapidly. that i thrive on both thinking and feeling. that sometimes they are in conflict and others they will agree.

it's always simmering there in the back of my brain. that need to simplify. to take this desire for resolution and make it into an irrevokable solution.

what, if anything that i could want seems of little consequence now. i fear my sadness lies not in chemicals or neurosies, but rather in physical conditions which i have tried to, but cannot amend. too rational to exhaust all my resources on correcting it, i humbly submit to my defects. too much an introvert to readily seek other forms of acceptance. and with these leanings toward malcontent and self deprication it's sometimes very easy to let something small grow by exponents.

it could just be one night. or it could be several. and sunlight acts as both a savior and a villain. sereptitiously giving me a sense of life and heightening the sense of its absense.

and just how you tend to bring out the best in me i don't even need to know. only that it is so. so my opposite. so everything i've always wished i could be.

and why i still care for a man who shows little interest in me is obvious now. he's so much a mirror of myself. and my feelings for him a paradoxical representation of my simultaneously narcissistic and self-loathing tendecies.

i could've said it more poetically. how shadows are drawn to dark, yet intensified by light. how life is inherently a pursuit of self-serving desire. that in every self-improvement there's a beautiful flaw to be lost. that healthy pursuits may lead to satisfaction, but that happiness is much more intense. that it only exists in the aftermath of its opposite.

i try to take people for who they are. to either love them as is or just forget the whole process. because that is how i would wish to be treated. because everyone is flawed and therefore that makes that normal. and ideals are for textbooks, not people.

poetically speaking, life is a series of wounds that produce scars. ultimately that is who we are. and happiness is defined by our willingness to accept the pain. to take the dead skin and fill it with life again. without sorrow, happiness cannot exist. it's both poetry and fact. to be genuine, everything needs an opposite.

04-17-04 saturday 11:25pm

nights are longer now. and days too. grasping at those threads of yourself that haven't been lost to. you try still, even though you no longer see a reason to. and you wonder still how they can't understand. that there's nothing left to want. nothing left you wish to have.

crumbling like a dead leaf. severed from its branch. the sunlight that once gave life now extracting it. healthy green becoming brown. moist veins drying out. and all you have left to do is wait for the rakes. wait to be swept up and eliminated.

i can focus so much on everything unkind, but that doesn't mean i've lost sight of what else life can offer. infact, i'm more aware of it yet. i see it like a lighthouse in the vastness of a dark ocean expanse. just don't know that i can find the shore again. or that even if i did, that it would welcome my presence.

it's never been a question of what or when. but if. how and why tailgating like arduous fans caught up in the conflict.

i can love. and be loved by, but still there's some lack. aspects uncharted. secrets still kept.

and besides, those lives already exist or have been. i seek not to interfere. even if mine scarcely ever began. it did happen. it really did. it was just brief. i've my plenty of memories. i'd just like something more current. a now instead of a then. but most of all i'd just rather not be a burden. neither be a crtuch. if you should find some reason in life to live it i seek not to protest. but i cannot understand it.

for all the reasons i've had. and those that i've sought. so brief. so transient. moons around plaents. clouds without a sun to offset. you're right. they'll never be enough. they're selfish shallow reasons. but they're all i've ever had. you're right, they're not permanent. just passing flirrtations with a ghost of what happiness once promised.

i'd bury them if i could. but i've not dug deep enough yet. i'll bury them someday. when i'm strong enough.