Dark Poetry Prose Poetry May 31, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

5-31-03 10:15 pm brick NJ saturday

just another day. just another skin the snake is shedding. one more bottle open. more to consume. frail tower lives won't support the weight of heavy hearted eyes.

to write. to plead your thoughts to the page. to write. to hope that that one phrase will somehow mean more than all the rest. to write. to waste your love on pages that absorb it, but never give back.

to listen. to really hear, knowing that your own words will not survive. to listen. to hear them recanting their tales of living. knowing that you've never been alive.

tomorrow. the next. or the one after that. someday and someone may still make it a little more than wasted. but don't bet on it. tomorrow. today. or never. who am i to count the seconds when they are scratching off my every moment. who am i to mark the years when they are constructing my coffin.

the world is full is happy people. or so they claim. the beautiful and the not so much. everyone dancing on the premise of something they can't really trust. something that has never proved itself. but still they believe. still they find it in each and every moment. false as it may be, it's still real to them. only a lie to me. because they have and i don't. because they've been there, but i've only imagined if.

just another night. another excuse to lose myself in this. just another hour. another chance to take to the edge of what isn't. if lost ever found itself it wouldn't know then what to do. if lost ever wasn't then it just wouldn't be itself. there are loves to give and love to let linger until they make you wish. there are always nights like this. broken rungs on the ladder that you must climb still. there will always be nights like this. every night is. lives wishing to live. loves that hunger for flesh that will never feed them. pauses in the darkness that forget what we've been. hidden compartments in the heart that still stare at those old photographs. still expect that they'll move again.