Dark Poetry Prose Poetry April 28, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

4-28-03 monday 9:05pm brick NJ

sometimes we write because we want to. others because we must. sometimes we write outside of ourselves. a shadow taking notes about the flesh that it hovers above.

sometimes we cry because we need to. others because we must. and sometimes when we don't cry at all. that's when the tears fall hardest. sometimes some people cry. but others they just write. droplets of a heart collecting in puddles of rhymes.

if you find me please send back toward myself. i'd say home, but i still don't know where that goes. if you find me wandering, just scribbling notes and staring at the world humming passed. please point me back toward myself. if you find me and i am again without myself. don't be startled, just point me in the right direction and i won't bother you again.

sometimes we take the poison to our lips just to taste the sweetness of death. we don't swallow, but we imagine how it would feel scorching down our throat. filling our veins with pure unabridged nothingness.

sometimes we take just enough because tiredness declines us. sometimes we take more than we merit because our hunger grows larger than our own presence. sometimes always has something to say or to bequeath. sometimes like a magical potion can be the difference between just keeping tonight and letting the morning begin again.

if you find yourself again, that person i can remember even though i've never met him. i can feel him under your skin. taste him in your kisses. a life long ago. a heart that used to want to live. if you find yourself again please introduce me to him. if you find yourself again i pray you'll keep him. i hope you'll give me the chance to really know him. if you find yourself again. if i come back from where i've went. perhaps sometimes still might chance us that wish. perhaps sometimes might weave another spell to give us one more chance.

but if sometimes doesn't see fit. and someday has already erased our appointments. i'll go with the poison. as i've always been waiting. always been teasing it. waiting for it to bite me. soon i expect.

04-28-03 monday 10:22pm rbick NJ

it's been said too often. much too heart-felt to say again. unless i'm seeking to be broken. which i'm not. it's been said. it's all been done. you
made your choices, but can you live with them?

it's that same old rhyme. that same verse coming back every time i try to write a new one. it's that one face haunting my daydreams when i dare to close my eyes again.

it's been lost and it's been found. it's been taken and it's been left to rot. you make your choices when at last your choices make you. you take your anwers as the questions ensue.

it's been said more than i care to admit. i've given more of myself than i ever knew i had to give. it's been loved and it's been hated. it's been everything that anything ever could have been and still it couldn't be what you wanted.

i've loved more than i wanted to. i've loved more than i once believed. i've put the words down to remind me when the forgetting tries to steal. i've marked the pages with the blood of flesh and spirit. the wounds of heart and hope. as if they'd ever trust me again. as if what they hold could live outside their two dimensional pages. as if the heart that beats within these rhymes could somehow bring yours back to life.

it's been written. it belongs now to the gods of poets and madmen. it's been said more than it should. as if repetition could have some kind of impact on you. it's been done. more than once. the sneaking inside. under my skin. between love and lust you slip your friendship. fill my life with more ways to hate it. fill my world with reason enough to live and just as many reasons to die.

i've loved you. from the moment that i read your first words. before i ever saw your face. and after even stronger still. i've loved you like i always have. that there's never been a time during my life that i haven't. i don't know why. i just do. and you never have. there's nothing i can do, but i still can't stop. you never will, but i can't not.

i've written. poetry and prose. roses and origami. i've gone everywhere in your life that you've let me. but it's not much. it never has been. i've let you go as deep as you want. but you've barely let me scratch the surface of who you are. i've felt you so so deep inside of me. and there's never been any better feeling. but still, you've never let me.