Dark Poetry Prose Poetry May 28, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

05-28-05 8:37pm saturday

the spray of darkness crashing in waves tangles my hair and dampens my face. i see them through it though to them i'm lost.

bodies floatiing on the surface. while below it i am caught.

i hear them searching. through the liquid the words impair. i feel them looking at me. though to them i'm still not there.

they look right at me, but all they see is the dark. i'm right here in it. unfound, but still not lost.

i'm here, right where you're looking at. if you can't see me that's not my fault.

05-28-05 saturday 10:14pm

i'm listening to a chick sing my favorite word. goodbye... she wheezes. goodbye isn't easy, but even still, that's what i'm saying.

i'm being selfish and talking only to myself. hardly listening to the music that's listening to me.

it's all too easy to stumble into yourself and never leave.

i'd like to know all those reasons that i don't. where people come from and where they go.

i'd like to be that easy. like a broken bone inside a cast. secretly healing.

i'd like just a sip to be enough to quench. just a crumb enough to fill me. instead of the way they tend to make how much i need that much more evident.

if the fountain's water. and the pennies people. then the wishes they throw into it must be the pauses in their heartbeats.

if it was yesterday that i knew them. and tomorrow that i'd hoped to. then tonight must be when it's meant for me to decide who.

i'd like to take them all and prove words are not my vice, but have always been my virtue.

only i know. and so do they. that it just isn't true.

05-25-05 11pm saturday

when there's nothing left except that feeling of. victimized by yourself. you wither in your abstract. touching on what once you touched. now afraid to get too close to that which once was closer than you could accept.

when it's quiet and movement seems an affront to the pace your life has kept.

earnest in your loyalty. yet flawed in your methods.

because in the reason that is your life none of it makes sense.

people crashing into one another. and instead of sinking they tend to float.

i don't know why it should ever matter. because everything new it does grow old. everything you thought you loved reveals itself.

and you're left with the feeling that everything you know is just a pale reflection of what you'd hoped.

i try to spend the night by myself, but only end up chasing images of other people.

i try to answer my own qeustions. but only end up lost in the notion that i never should've asked them.

i can't help thinking there's nowhere to go. that isn't then same as it is now. that isn't it just as alone.

i can't ask myself why. can't flirt with the answering. because what if it responded. what if it wanted to know.

i leave the night to itself. as it grows tired of my passes. i leave the past to where it lays. in a bed littered with failed chances.

only we can. the vice at our throats. breathing is so liberal until the moment it begins to choke.