Dark Poetry Prose Poetry April 21, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

8:28pm 4-21-04 wednesday

cello moods. darting over deep moaning strings. the cello to me, always seemed the saddest of all instruments. even as the entire of the ochestra would elate, still it would seem to be grieving quietly.

can it be that i've been spinning all this time? hoola hoop daydreams caught in the updraft of tornado lives. spinning like a cd in the drive. cold lasers deciphering its secrets. a record on a turntable. moving coil needle extracting the sounds it hides.

could it be that given the chance to live i wouldn't even take it? i wonder every now and then. how much is life's limitations. and how much are mine.

i can't trust. not after four years. certainly not after just one. to love comes easy. like dewy sweet beer rippling eagerly through my blood. but trust lives in the shadows. like a monster under my bed growling. taunting me to take just one peak. and then i'd look down to see and it would would devour me.

4-21-04 wednesday 10:04pm

if not how, then what? if not tonight or tomorrow then when? never is as never does. happiness being neither a tangible nor a construct. but rather a biproduct of wanting to live. of actually, perhaps just once, wanting it.

if not me, then surely someone else. too much time spent needing. it's bound to happen. it never needed to be the two of us. it just had to happen. like dead earth sprouting blades of grass again. death seems only a part of the cycle. not an end.

not friends. not love. just circumstance infatuated with what the moment had become. not forever. not even a lifetime. only minutes. minutes of pleasure and then. only minutes. a few minutes of trust and then gone again. as ghostly as a dream. what once felt so real quickly vanished as the real world abruptly opened up.

voila, there it is. a sweep of the arms to emphasize the pertinence.

voici, here it is. not quite as profound, but neccessary on certain occasions.

every hour draws itself like a pen without paper. making invisible sketches. jagged renditions of what has been. what will be. but no one can see them.

i just want what's best for everyone. for you to sleep. for you to go home more often.

just want to give it all away to everyone. cuz i've never wanted. it's only being wasted.

if not now, then when? when i'm finally old enough not to give a shit about what's happened. all that hasn't. if not tonight, some night soon just like this. accompanied by mournful music struggling against the silence in my veins. not tonight. no. but one night soon just like this. when i'm finally too old to wait. when at last it's been so long that i don't care who it hurts. who it effects. no. not tonight, but someday soon, on a night just like this.

04-21-04 wednesday 10:23pm

can't give it away anymore. watch it float off on the wind like a million flecks of pollen. can't let this sadness procreate.

can't allow anyone to know. fugitive hearts chasing one-armed men. if they should ever find their judas, what would they do then?

can't watch that long procession. one by one the tears drying up in devout predilection.

i'd rather be dead. but i'm not yet. i'd rather have never existed, but well, it happened. so many years bled into my skin. so quietly like blinking. it happens constantly and yet you scarcely know that it is.

can't. it's just too hopeless to make known. can't laugh off another scolding. can't drink enough to make it easy anymore. can't fall into the people that i used to. it wasn't fair to them. it was just a temporary high. just as everything has ever been. they don't understand. that temporary highs are all i've ever had.

can't cry. tears are for the grieving. and i'm done with that. can't ask. questions are for the hopeful. and hope i've abandoned.

don't equate my life with yours. since they are so different. don't offer me your platitudes. it's different. it really is. your world is not all there is to know.

i'm just like those bottles that i drain. designed only to be emptied for the pleasure they can ordain. i'm so much like those bottles that i worship. filled up for the sole purpose of being drained. all that's within is useless until it's taken.

i'll just be coaxing these metaphors until they finally give up on me. adoring them as a child does a parent until at last this writing and this life grants my release.

can't give it away. can't ask for any kind of exchange. can't answer those questions when i'm so preoccupied with designing my own. let it ring. let silence answer when i can't. since it knows so much better who i am.

let it rain. let it rain like it's the very first time it ever has. let me drown. let me be swept away at last.