Dark Poetry Prose Poetry May 29, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

05-29-04 saturday 9:30am

it is an exit. a leap without a land.
it is a sentence. a pen without a hand.

why die trying when i can do nothing and die quietly instead.
submit my sorrow to these verses and let everything else forget.

what once did scream and flower in my darkest skies,
the fireworks that were your presense no longer do ignite.

this invisible box is home now, as such as it has always been;
and then still look deeper yet - there's another container inside of it.

the coffin therein where i laid my heart to rest.

05-29-04 saturday 10:07am

what is there left to be written. which hasn't already. it's all been done. every ache pursued. every sorrow reiterated ad nauseum.

why try to make them understand your grief. knowing however poetic the words they read, they'll only impose their own feelings upon. they never see you. they only look into your eyes to see their own reflection.

05-29-04 saturday 10:20am

do i set out to create or am i created by?

is it suicide? no, it's just wanting to die.

is it life? was it ever lived?
no, just a tender rose
in a desert planted;

a cruel mockery of
these harsh conditions,
and all the beauty that
outside this place still flourishes,

but left here always dies.

8:44pm 5-29-04 saturday

is it someone else? no, same face. just different hightlights. different shadows. like the twin hours in time's cycle. one day. one night.

all my life, there's never been a future. no plan. only here. now. and what lay behind.

all my life i've been trying to avoid the future, but never have succeeded. no matter how i resist. it just keeps on happening.

is it someone else? yes, sometimes. life dampens like parchment under the weight of thick ink. they breath and it becomes verses in my heart. their hearts beat and i hear music. and then my fingers do sing it.

is it loved because it lived or more because it died? had its flight been longer would i still be so enchanted. given the chance to reach its destination would it have crashed or simply landed. or maybe i guess, it might've reached it. and it's the journey that i miss.

8:55pm 05-29-04 saturday

swelling grey builds as the sunlight is broken by the darkness. it's just a room. just sheetrock walls that echo hungry music. it's just the world. that place outside of them. wider walls. bigger dimensions. but the same in essence.

drowning pools of shadows churn. mingling with the strands of smoke into braids of loneliness. it's just skin and bones. and organs. the patchwork clothes of the soul. the disguise for its nakeness.

words don't come. are not coerced. they beckon. like hunger. and thirst. and other primal urges.

songs do not sing. they bleed. like open wounds. missing skin. permanent ink.

you look, but only see what you know. and there's so much more to see that you don't. this so much flesh just gets in the way. this inadequate language only frustrates.

touch does try, but then the pleasure pervades. the message succumbs to such human devices. and it is forgotten again for a while.

ribbons of darkness. black bowties around the neck of silence. not the silence outside, but the kind within. no matter how loud you make the sounds, nothing can overcome it.

i'm afraid of now. and then. i'm afraid of how and why and when. afraid for tomorrow and the next. that these words have dug such a deep ditch. that i'll never see the surface again.

9:11pm 05-29-04 saturday

it tried to be, but it couldn't. like grains of sand mixing with the ocean. wishing they could be fishes. struggling briefly, then sinking to the bottom.

i meant to, but wasn't able. like thoughts of kisses during orgasm. lips open, and then quietly let go.

as how the piano does grieve in heavy choruses of aching strings. keys depress and hammers hit. so alike the hearts that beat in our chest. valves do take and give. blood in veins like angry rivers. deep red rapids of life and death. nervous shackles of having lived.

long days. longer nights. lay down on their backs and put their feet in the air. open wide and welcome the eruption of life. weak and hungry. hollow and echoing the breath of every tear.

hopeless and remorseful for the time squandered. for the chances unclaimed. shattered mirrors in your subconscious throw broken reflections into your pain.

hopeless and alone as the oldest grave. awakening to find yourself there in that coffin. not dead yet, but so much the same.

05-29-04 9:45pm saturday

like friends you never ask, but always listen as. hearts yield to the beat of someone else's. feeling less than. less than a person. just an echo from that last breath so long ago. i'm just these words i bleed out as i inflict the wounds. life is the knife. i am the fist. and the wound is. the wound is whom.

i'm just these words. that speak silently to. shadows jumping cliffs indefinitely.

i'm just those wounds. what scars they leave. distorted flesh longing to be whole again. the subtle markings of trying to be.

like sex you take for nothing more than. muzzled hounds of love growl muted. impotent. rabid emotions yearn to infect. to multiply as people do. but they are sterile now. nothing more than mucous left over after the cold.

it's the one thing i could never let the words become. soemthing so much felt deserves more than language can abide. the crest of a wave just before it breaks. the dance of the sun as it waxes the sky in its melted clutch. dawn. sunset. all that bears witness inbetween thier margins.

it's the one thing that this poetry could not seduce. or else refused. the drowning in your throat as those rivers of beer meander down. the feeling of escape as your blood quietly interacts. poisonous like love. and just as emphatic. helpless as you were then. as you've been ever since. lost inside your own head. so deep inside yourself that the world is only a distant pinprick of light in the vast stage of all that great darkness. darkness so much greater than you ever imagined.

so dark that you are drawn to it. like pain to pleasure. love to sex. so dark you wonder how it can be so absolute. why does it beckon. why does it want you. when it's so powerful why does it still ask. like you have a choice. as if you have ever had.

10:22pm 05-29-04 satruday

so this is what we've become. these translucent effigies of graves unwillingly dug. mortar and stone in place of love.

why try. why even begin the song. knowing it must end. why sing. why grasp. knowing the release already has.

so many pages. more than i thought were in. i'm leaky. broken. like rotting pipes.

build the pressure. make it flow hard and strong. open the valve and behold the spectacle of open hearts.

do hearts have wrists that can be slit. does love a throat which can be choked.

it's suicide without the dying. dead bodies without fermaldahide.

given to laugh. to laugh at how readily time does preach. like some infatuated mssionary who actually believes. as if words can make it real. whole again. paste those petals back onto the flower. pretend that it never died. was never severed from its stem.

there's so much to say. and yet so little reason that i should. like three legged dogs. and how awkwardly they stumble on.

one part of you laughs. while the other part weeps. one part of you grieves. while the other part wishes that. wishes that it had never known. never seen. such cold realities. so many reasons to live that go unnoticed. so many reason to die that they can't accept.

and if this is what we are now. these breadcrumbs left behind. a trail fo lead us back. but returning isn't always willing. no matter what your path.

it's too much. so much more than it shold be. bulb burst from too much light. seasons shatter under too much heat. i maybe could've lived given the opportuinty. but then it happened. and i learned it just didn't want me.

10:40pn satruday 5-29-04

so i love you now. what does it mean. just that i'm broken. just that wasted is more tangible than.

so this is it. empathy knows not. synmpathy forgets.

so i love you now. as i did then. tired chrous repates as if.

so i love you. so what. how it does remind me just how much. with tickling feathers and fragile hands it moves over my skin like a shadow deflected. but too much light. lost again.

so i've fallen. and have broken. like every being that does accept. lacking and mispromised. at one with loneliness. both a saviour and a vctim.

electric chair friends singe the flesh. char it. make it so black.

like how i could knowing that. as sure as i met the end the beginning would not let. as sure as i was. without my consent the tragedy wouldn't happen. much as i was aware, i closed my eyes. pretended that. liffe actually wanted to live. that lungs could spread like eagle's wings. and soar. soar so gratefuly upon that waiting wind. i had seen it happen and still believed it could happen once again.

i had seen the other side and wanted so much to find it.

10:50pm 5-29-04 saturday

oysters. bearing pearls. open shells beg. sand in their throats. dirt becomes gems. how beautfiul. how beautfiful that is.

like waking up from a dream you barely rememebr. i felt your presense again. deep inside my life. long conversations on the benefit of having tired.

trying only to fail again. like that so much darkness that cheats the light. watching the sun dwindling beneath the horizon and wondering why. why anything ever happened. and why it tried when it always knew it would die.

i heard you when. heard you when you said it was better. and knew such assessments were relative. like how hearts do count backward towards forever. like how they imagine and then quickly forget.

it's too much. i can't keep up. thoughts do barter for betters stages. but no such luck.

it's over. like a skyrocket exploded. the darkness invaded fleet and then resloaded. triggers on the finger. bullets that talk like friends.

it's too much. days exceed. like chapters without numbers. only covers do keep. long novels on the pathos of dying. wishing you could. still so basorbed by why it wants to but barely tries.

leave me here like this. such a stranger in my own life. friends. enemies. what's the difference. love and hate. how do you mark the margins.

just leave me here like this. stain on the carpet. veins eager. flesh weakened. promising that soon it will happen. like jasmine. it blooms only at night. like flowers opening up for the first time. brightly colored petals do handsomely diguise. thick beds of pollen are scattered and take flight. lost in their evolution. lost on the trial. guilt or innocent of little consequence now. the prison is life.