Dark Poetry Prose Poetry April 23, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

04-23-04 friday 8:42pm

i just have to ruminate on this awhile. let it clog my veins. upend this vacant smile.

maybe i'm just so caught up in this introverted revery. flannel shirts discarded to feel cold again. to feel anything different.

i just have to deliberate within myself for a bit. it's a long drawn out argument that finally, if ever, leads to acceptance.

tell me how. how you can treat it like another one of your websites. there when you call upon it. gone when you don't. tell me how you encode those feelings so that they're so secure. and safe from all hackers. that you like how isolated. that it never really mattered. and now indifference has peaked.

knots in my hair disintegrate as bored fingers explore. knots in my heart tighten. drawn by time's growing weight.

if not to rhyme, then what to do. just gaze at empty pages. if not smoking and drinking, then how. to sedate the fevered anguish. as it rises from its grave every night like a zombie hungry for flesh.

if not to answer, then only to let it ring. like leaves caught in the wind. lost between the branch that once held and the ground that's begging.

if not to know you that way again. only a sad predictament. life vascilates between giving up and giving in. unaccompanied by choices. there are no actions to take. moving slowly through the bowels of life. there's only one exit.

9:22pm 04-23-04 friday

i hate how it feels to want something. to want someone that much. that your skin vibrates with their rhythm instead of its own. that the temperature keeps changing, but you can't feel it. cause all you feel is cold.

swallow the night whole. sucking it down in long drags. pushing it through your system and then out again. just like all the faces your heart photographs and then quietly puts into shoe boxes.

writing to yourself. to them. to passed loves. to current friends. writing not because you want to, but because it demands. raggedy puppet of your building habits. faceless drummer keeping rhythm for the singer in the spotlight. pounding out the backbone of thier words while.

can't you love me again. want me that much so that neither of us can stand it. no, but i just ruminate on what life has passed on. bargains of the heart. bait and switch. never do get what you expected. but no complaints. false advertising is the foundation of life.

maybe i don't care who it is. just so long as someone does. i could teach myself to believe the lie if i thought that it would make up for all the truths that make it so hard.

i guess i just don't know what to say that could be profound. there's room for implications. but no place anymore for how.

maybe the music will be loud enough some night when. like a virgin just penetrated. so full of life. so drained of expectations.

maybe i can look forward to if nothing else the close. the final scene. when all those shakespearan soliloquies at long last succumb to their impotence. and even the darkness. that most stalwart of detractors submits. moving shadows are all we've ever been. nothing left here to see.