Dark Poetry Prose Poetry May 5, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

05-05-03 monday 9pm brick NJ

uninspired -
thoughs do conspire
to find another means
with which to;

tired -
much more quiet
than i'm used to;
your life becomes a liar
and loneliness your only truth;

and the truth stowed
down in the bottom of you
is something you'd rather
leave there where it
can't interfere -
where it can't intrude;

if i could die tonight
where would i go?
would you remember me?
if i could die tonight
like i've always wanted to,
where would the end really lead?
would you miss me?

talking to the last sips,
lingering on the more acute moments
has all the trappings of a manic depressive
caught in the down side of it;
has all the quaint appeal of
a pit bull on narcotics;

pulling on the last drops,
sucking on the empty bottle -
music tries to temper the
sharper corners,
but the angles are too hard;

choking on the empty air,
suffocating from the
blackhole memories -
what goes in you'll never see again,
what of yourself you give to it
is lost forever;

you are the moon to my tide,
you are the fade out to my fade in;
and lost in the smoke and darkness
there is a thought i can't quite make out;

lost in the fog of depression
there is a verse i've yet to pen,
it seems there always will be -
it appears that's the only thing
i'm still searching for;

a way to say,
some way to express
what all those sighs have kept,
what all those silences
that stood between us
always hoped you'd see in them.

05-05-03 monday 9:30pm brick NJ

dime store lives are easily bought and sold. pawn shop hearts are only worth as much as the next customer is willing to spend. is it. has it been worth what you got for them?

twice a year smiles. twice a year lives. they might live longer, but are they really alive? they might last longer, but all that space between ... what do you fill it with?

near-sighted hearts. hind-sighted lives. a sad combination.

a ghost of a song sweeping through your conscience takes the path of least resistance until it stumbles upon your motives. then it turns back. lost. so many roads. so few destinations.

a ride anticipated. not yet taken. a smile that never met your lips. on the verge of forever you sit scraping at the pickets in its fence. wondering why you ass hurts while you're sitting so long on its pointed apexes.

i don't really remember now. though i try. how it used to feel. jeopardy grins begging their questions to the answers that i would bring. i can't really feel it anymore. that way it used to. static between fingertips as they would attempt to meet. love lingering on for days after we'd made it.

i used to love you. so much. now i think i'm starting to resent it. i used to love you. so glad that i'd had the chance. but time creeps in always to foil even the best of plots. and this wasn't the best to begin with. i don't really remember how it feels. to believe in. to feel that feeling when. the moment before the kiss combusting as if. a fire in my heart. an infero in my chest. i remember what it was. what i wanted it to be. i remember like you can remember days so long passed. the pictures play. the soundtrack is alive with emotions unfamiliar. you wander through the museum of your deepest memories like a tourist awestruck. you wander the halls of your memory like a stranger. stranger still than you ever thought you'd become.