Dark Poetry Prose Poetry May 22, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

05-22-05 sunday 8:45pm

doubled over from. listening to the streamlined grief of pop culture icons. personas traded like stocks. thoughts sway with the rhythms and the riffs. i'm so easily influenced.

she wrote: "you're sounding like goodbye". guess she couldn't say it. i write this in return: i'm not mimicking. i am it.

goodbye from the very beginning. goodbye right up until the end. and long after still it lingers over my head like the smoke from so many put out cigarettes.

tired fingers. tired mind. too much to say. so very few words with which.

i'm over myself. but not over any of them. each one sits on its own shelf in the museum that is my head.

for me it never goes away. i just get used to it. if you stare at something long enough, eventually you stop seeing it.

some experiences are intended to change our lives. others just to remind us that change doesn't happen unless.

05-22-05 9:22pm sunday

no pages will. though they'll wish.

silent orchestra the soundtrack. strangers your only friends.

no moments do. though some attempt.

you turn the pages slowly back and see the movement in memory's static.

no distance can keep. but hinder it will.

those stars i look up at long since dead.

no amount of time can kill. but fade it does.

for every feeling ever felt there is a drawer in which eventually it gets tucked.

forgetting never happens. but in time the memory relents.

no pages do now, though once they did. religiously.

all that's left of kept safely guarded behind an antagonist's grin. for then and ever after, i am only as strong as my denial is.