Dark Poetry Prose Poetry May 12, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

5-12-03 monday 9:40pm brick NJ

count another breath. mark your life by the hours spent. am i dead yet? no, i'm still waiting on that.

ingest the loneliness. swallow it whole. maybe it'll catch in your throat.

i don't know the lyrics. i don't know the melody. but in my heart that rhythm beats. as it always has. in my life all words i wrote upon it have gone missing. in time everything forgets. eventually.

dig the moments into your flesh. dye your skin with the colors of regret. sabotage yourself. like you always have. death has always been your favorite beverage. drink up. get drunk on it again.

life is not living. living not neccessarily life. time paints portraits on my brain. picasso demons creeping through my veins in all the vibrant colors of pain. in all the geometric shapes of disdain.

hours away. years between. in memory your face looks so familiar, but there infront of me i see a stranger.

the nights like liquid form puddles in my mood. i jump and they splash their stains all over my flesh. it moves through my darkness like a match burning my fingertips as i try to pentrate. try to navigate the corridors in myself where light is no longer present.

in memory your face. your voice. your touch are all so definitive. so much more real than in reality they've ever been. in the cheap cartoon thoughts love poorly draws nothing dies. it always comes back to live no matter how many time you kill it.

looking back i remember when death was all that i could drink. but now i'm thirsty for something different. now i remember and you are so much. now in memory strangers are lovers. and lovers still touch.

5-12-03 monday 10pm brick NJ

never say the things i'm really thinking. it's a shame. you don't get to know. you don't get to feel what i'm really.

never say the things i'm really meaning. it's a shame. no one knows. like a dog caught on a leash there's always something pulling back on me.

i've nothing to gain. and so much to lose. but i still had hoped to say. but the moments turn to hours. the hours into good byes. i let time slips so much depeer than i ever thought it could find. and by the time i realize, it's too late. i only find the courage once the chance has passed. and i guess it wouldn't make much idfference. i guess it's understood below the surface. it must be. because you don't mention it, but i always hear it when the silence finds its presne.

can't say the things. they've long since outlived their purpose. older now than i've ever been. older every day since.