Dark Poetry Prose Poetry May 19, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

05-19-05 thursday 9:27pm

the word never bled, but it always envied those who could. enchant the shadows as they self-possessed. garbed in skins of so much feeling. touched by. touching. animated. so rich in memory as to never hunger again.

the time never came, as i thought it would. when life would sink low enough that i could see the strings it uses to make us dance.

perhaps it's just us.

the berry's too swet. the apple too sour. nothing ripens anymore. they all just fall from their vines and their trees. and lay there in the grass while their skins pucker and their meat goes soft..

there's a word for all of this, but i don't know what it is. somewhere between the pale of dreams ripped from your tender sleep and the huff of selfishness as it coaxes you to do the deed. there's that word lays in wait for someone to flesh it out with letter and page. there in the gap between wanting to die and wishing you could live, is where it waits.

05-19-05 10:15pm thursday

by the time you know for certain what you want, well, it may not want you anymore.

by the time the night pries itself open. well, you may have gone so long without shelter that it doesn't even matter.

if it's the eyes that see. and hearts that feel. then how is it they always become confused. images can mean so many things. vision only glimpses of a future you hope to achieve.

if the dark is alive. with both blood and flesh. then it should be of greater comfort. and it it's just fictitous. an entity created by the neediest. well, then, i shouldn't feel it so keenly. as it bears down in its thrust.

we are only thoughts and nothing more. until we do what we think. and even then, flesh always seems to fall short of the plans we had for it.

we are only that which we love. or what we believe might love us. everything else scatters as pollen would against your heavy breath. because lungs, they empty out. and blood it thins. as longer and longer you go without that which would make you whole.