Dark Poetry Prose Poetry April 30, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

8:26pm 4-30-04 friday

what am i waiting for? no more writing about why or how or if.

myself does conspire against me. traitor under my breast. tells me what it wants and then begs me not to let.

rambling farces of life and death dancing under failing skins. an inferno of conflicting choices sets my mind on fire. what i want. what i crave. there are all kinds of pain, but only certain kinds i can take. there's a plethora of ways to hurt yourself. and i know most of them. some days i choose the duller aches. other times the sharpest blades.

left handed mind sees everything backward. does everything opposite. even living and dying.

pressed firm into the darkness. wetsuit of aloneness. clings to my skin. keeps me dry, but also keeps out the wind. the sun. all other sensations. anything that touches.

i had wanted to lay sweet invitations in your lap. to have you smell the fragrance of being wanted and asked.

i just couldn't do it though. too many other thoughts blocking that path. steel barricade of emotions that are always wanting, but so afraid to ask.

rejection i can take from anyone else but.

you tell me to stop flirting with death and just go ahead and screw it already. and i understand your consternation. in your place i'd say the same thing. it's just not that simple. failure is not an option. it will happen eventually. it will.

but that doesn't really matter. do we not all die. what real difference does it make if we run toward it or from it. when in the end we all cross that same finish line.

for now, i'm alive. at least bordering on. for now, it's still ripe words and empty breathing.

i used to take that happiness you induced and suck it down like so many bottles of beer. it was easy then. caught in that moment it seemed to have no beginning nor end. but now it's so different. every smile is underscored by so much distance. so many stolen kisses that will never again.

how can i take that happiness you bring now knowing for such certain that it can never really be again. that i was so wrong to take it from you in the first place. that i'm the only one who's responsible for how i feel.

but i'm just such an addict. dependent on everything this life can find to. how can i ever take that happiness you put into me now, knowing that i never should have. how very unfair it was to you.

9pm 04-30-04 friday

it's always the same. razorblade hours whittle away. time is an ocean. erodes life day by day.

briny tears won't fall tonight. i've given all those dreams away.

and words won't speak of, though they may imply. friends might not understand, but that's okay.

if i could speak the way i write. as open as this is. spread myself like peanut butter all over your soft white bread skin.

what does time know anyway? it's just a fat bloated tick. draining us for its nourishment. what does love care anyhow? if we win it or if we lose it. shouldn't it only matter that it lived.

i just shrink rapidly at times. like a balloon deflating. one little pin prick is all it takes. it shouldn't be that easy, but it still is. it's not what is said, but how and when. darts coaxing their targets in backrooms bars of the heart. bullets quenching the wind on a speedy path through resistance.

you can't make me something, but you can make me nothing again. like pulling the shroud off of an empty canvas. revealing the lie that i am.

you can't make me truly happy. but you can make me forget just how unhappy i am. cover that empty canvas. wrap yourself around me like a casket. let me listen again to that rhythm in your chest. instead of trying to capture life, just listening to it.

like a beautiful song without lyrics. like beautiful music. your arms around me. my ear to your chest. listening. just listening to how well you live.

10pm friday 04-30-04

fridays like fractured glass. make all the other days have to tend to their mess. cause fridays used to be so much to covet. but now they just ask. silent questions posed to darkness have not answers to possess.

fridays used to be my salvation. now they only crucify. it's hard watching blood turn to wine. and all i can do is wonder, how you do it. make everything else seem more important. how you get over so fast while i'm still trying.

fridays. all that i loved about them once, now i despise. everything wonderful they once afforded gives all of the weekend bad breath. and i don't know why i should care at all. given that. given that all i should be is dead. and you've finally given in to that, but i'm still so cowardly that it still hasn't happened.

it's not drama. it's not a routine. it's just circumstance making me weak.

if i could love better i most certainly would. make your life easy. easy like it should. if i could answer i most certainly would. give you all those reasons to love me that i've never had.

but it isn't to be. that blood just stayed blood. and that savior never did erase our sins. i'm just one picture in your collage of friendship. still waiting for the glue to dry. thin paper wrinkling under the wetness of attachments that have yet to solidify.

i wanted to be better. i really did try. but better only happens if you can actually believe it. and real words only give in when you've no means left to rhyme.

i never meant to ask, but somehow it happened. now it asks all the time even without a reason. fat parasite attached to this friendship. biting into its neck for all the feeding it can provide.

my staunch metaphors mean nothing when. confronted by that real voice. that starboard smile. i still want you but, what i want is irrelevant. ever since. i'm still learning. still coming to accept. it takes so very much time. i'm slow. i don't heal well. i try to walk on broken limbs and end up falling. letting you down again. i'm sorry. i just keep trying to be better. to be better before i actually am.