Dark Poetry Prose Poetry May 18, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

05-18-04 tuesday 9:27pm

these dark propositions. on the testimony of silence. breadbox ambitions grow moldy and hard. i am a violin. taut strings weep at the slighest friction. and the world is an orchestra full of all kinds of instruments always playing different symphonies. it's rare. it's mriaculous to experience a moment that they're all in sync. that from this din comes music.

i sleep eyes still open. dream while still conscious. hovering like an angry bird. the window that show it's mate. is the barrier which keeps her from him.

i write like a pen without a hand. agitated sentences lose their place and are abandoned for the next.

i bleed without red. transparent. i cry without tears. without anything to indicate to them. without sympathy. i never wanted it anyway. alone in content. alone in misery. predictament or decision. both i guess, in their own respect.

tonight quietly transitions into tomorrow. subtle as the margins spring crosses to name itself summer again. yellow flowers burnt slightly brighter. eager lives crossing some unkown threshold to enter the place from which they came.

what do you know of it. that prism that flaunts its colors as you dare to glance the sun full throttle. willing. so willing to go blind, for that chance to witness.

if i could write as well as some say i do wouldn't i by now have finished. secured that perfect rhyme. composed that ultimate penance. if i could. if only. it's all just slender twigs i thought were big sticks. sweepstakes without a winner. too many rules. and eligibility requirements.

9:40pm 5-18-04 tuesday

high noon lives. stark and bright. and blinding. you can look up at them if you so choose. but if you do, you may never be able to see anything else again.

sad sad songs say they almost know. who i am. how i feel. but no. soemthing's missing. so i try. try so hard to find it, but it hides from me.

laughing as you will at the folly of your own exceptions. as if there are such things in the world you have embraced. as if not being left with somehow means you've not lost them. but it's so untrue.

earnest are the hours that divide hearts and minds. they attempt to walk together as much as it is they can. but no such metaphors submit. no such luxuries offer their wealth. it's poverity. it so much is. so hungry for a feeding that teases from the other side of the glass. so dripping in the thunderstorm of what has been.

10pm tuesday 5-18-04

if i should compose in the morning, as i sometimes do. all full of so much sobriety. it comes out sharp and keen. like whetted blade acroos softened meat. and i fimd it upsetting. that there could be this other me. so alike and yet so different. i try to swallow the scenario like too large penises. and then gag. i revel in it like so many orgasms. and then weep for it. like loves that only happened in my head.

or if i should compose at night like this. all full of allergy medicine and other substances. so much more myself than i'd like to know. and yet drawn into it, like cattle roped.

i'm just skin. thin peachy paper covering white hard bones. i'm just thoughts. flaoting freely from the hours that coax. i'm just me. you already know her. she's so stupid and open. like a diary with a broken lock. private thoughts irrevokalbly exposed.

i'm just what you wanted once, but is no longer worth the risk. like so many friends that ever dared to be more than that. like so many amendments the heart ratified, but life still decided to veto.

never you mind what is my ache. what is my aggravation. that's mine. and always will be mne alone. you may have glimpsed, but i know your world is altogether different. better or worse is not for me to predict. i need only remembber that bridge we built. to know that we can't cross it.

if it were only just tonight i could live with it. if it were only just this, i could put it to bed. but it's not just tonight. it's every one of them. it's not just this night. it's all of them.since.