Dark Poetry Prose Poetry May 21, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

5-21-04 friday 8:45am

in love we trust to invest our lives. to take whatever value they have and give it interest. to guarantee a profit, no matter how slight.

to know that even left unguarded, we'll not regret. that infact, unguarded is how it should be.

that chance must be taken. the ultimate risk. gain so very much or else lose all of it. and knowing. knowing that in the end. regardless of the outcome. even left with nothing, we are so much richer for it.

05-21-04 9:11pm friday

broken verbs. crippled sentences. i am not. have never been. human. just this crass collection of verse. just this flesh that barters with others for pleasure. and this heart in repeated swells. angry ocean. yearning tide clutches at indifferent grains of sand. and crashes. wounded, but compelled beyond itself to do it again.

the cycle is life. the reason is hidden. the mind is the killer. the heart is the victim.

lie to your life. tell it that it's miscounted. time is a portrait. color it in. sorrow is your bed. make it.

this very moment.

feel me not there. stage of love without dialogue. closed curtains.

know the frown that laughs out loud.

because nothing matters. nothing now.

05-21-04 9:28pm friday

praise it as if. that so much darkness can ever see anything other than this.

remember it like. shells on the shore. oceans in your ear. as if. as if that much silence can ever hear.

tempt me not. for i will surely submit. relentless metronome of habit.

give nothing. it will surely be rejected. windows stare. but cannot be opened.

broken glass does not fall. it clings to the frame. millions of distorted pyramids. reflections without a face.

i whisper to myself. in shy rhymes. in nervous verse. tears not shed.

i lie to them. as if i can. as if this falling has an end.

bottomless nights. and cloudless days. mingling as they do. in hungry adoration of the tears they have contained. willing. oh so willing to accept. how much was given. how little was left.

this tribe. this cult of authors without an index. this life. this ragged journal. this dusty jukebox of songs that no one listens.

death knows me now better than ever. but loves me not. not anymore than any other.

myself i am. so much now. a fractured grin that knows not how.

05-21-04 friday 10:30pm

try me as you will. like so many pools you might dip your toe into.

leave me now. since the need has surrendered to something more human. like the cut of laughter from your lungs. breathing abstract. speaking without rhythm.

shout me like you would a protest. because i am all wrong. all lost in the should have. all fought like a war without a cause.

blood warm and fragile on your flesh. turning brown and then. staining like hours. flaking like promises. beating like lonely writings in darkness. hummingbird souls hungry for pollen. invisible wings. gravity holds its breath. then releases.

forget me now. it must be. because it's already been forgotten. your acknowledgement is only a formality.

such as the silence never knew how very quiet it could be. lost in the ocean of music, it floats helplessly upon its back. the sun looks down. the waters ask. but only nothing does it have.

just as pages fill up, but are only emptier yet. just as days do multiply. but only are worth that much less.

05-21-04 friday 10:30pm

but there are moments. like now. stolen images of how. what i once loved is alive again. graves i stand over and speak to. believing they can still hear me. those ghosts. doesn't matter if they can. only that it's spoken. for the very first time. that it's actually said.

dead as i've ever been. but still alive. alive like a fly caught in a jar. punched holes for oxygen. but nothing more. and so much less.

alive like paralysis. there. seen. almost acknowledged. but immobile. no effect.

remembering how. how little it took to create the explosion. how just one tiny spark set all that destruction into motion. how much i was the fuse and you were the spark. how easy was the ignition. how combustable the heart.