Dark Poetry Prose Poetry June 4, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

06-04-05 saturday 9:37pm

you move me. with your anger and your praise. with your ephemeral desire to peel away these layers.

there'll never be time enough. or reason. or reward.

there'll never be anything other than the spores you've already wished away. and that stem in your hand where the flower once waited.

you just breathed too hard and then i was gone. broken into a million little pieces. as good as lost.

to you anyway.

there never were any right words i could've said. or way in which i could've responded that would've convinced you i'm not what you've always thought i am.

so why would i even try.

easier just to let you think what you want and go back to what i know i am.

you seem to want for me to be savable. so that you could be the one to rescue. or maybe just watch me drown. i can't tell.

but i can swim. and i can float. it's up to me how long i stay and when i go.

why couldn't you just be my peer. why'd you have to try to save me from myself.

06-04-05 saturday 10pm

alone at last. comfortable to wither in my darkness. ready to be plucked. to be worn for a night on a blazer and then discarded.

tomorrow was never my muse. always the end was.

egregious judgements filter through the cellophane that wears my touch. how i love them more each time they hurt me. how i revel at watching them flail to understand this moving corpse.

it's music as they scream to wake me up from this coma.

it's a funeral.

the rabbit mocked the tortoise until he lost.

the world rested on atlas's shoulders until he coughed.

the diamond in the rough. coal as it were. black all through to its core. apt to stain you if touched. keep polishing. black turns to mirror if you rub hard enough.

they're not without their charms. every memory i possess. i'm not without my gratitude for each and every person who's chanced to provide me them.

06-04-05 saturday 11:29pm

pick up the ache girl, that what i heard. whether or not those words were true, not of my concern.

turn your cartwheels. salt your earth. in the end i'll be the one who's right when it all comes crashing down on you.

i just want to escape. quielty. not have anyone notice. that i'm gone.

i just wish for once they'd care as much as they claim to.

i just want to lsiten. like it's all music. dancing as we do.

superiority doesn't have anything to do with use.

maybe when you're old enough. and the baklash has scarred you. i hope not. but i know it will. i only hope i have the capcity to still feel for you then. still feell you like i used to.

i only hope your switch works then. when most you need it to.

becuse life, it doesn't turn off, though people sometimes do.