Dark Poetry Prose Poetry June 7, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

10:55am 6-07-04 monday

faces i can't quite remember. voices that even in acceptance somehow dismiss you. like they don't want to be cruel. but it's not a choice. it's only life. train tracks that have already decided for you. stations you paused at and perhaps wanted to stay longer, but weren't able to.

faces shrinking into the distance like deflating balloons. features once so dinstinctive now fading into.

voices that both whimper and bark with resistance. all at once i feel both sorry and elated. that we're still trying. because we had every intention of, but we don't always get to choose. sometimes life decides for us.

6-07-04 monday 10pm

it's so quiet lately. like life has taken a moment of silence to remember all the chances that have passed.

i've given up on being loved. or even feeling pleasure again. other than what i can do for myself.

i can't decide if i want the phone to ring or if i like it better when it's quiet. why tease this heart with can't be there conversations. cuz the calls that once meant contact have all been used up. there's nothing left now, but remnants of.

it's tiring. just breathing all the time. it's defeating. going to sleep and waking up again and again. to this screen. to this killing time until.

why does life keep asking me to live it when it knows that i can't. why does this heart long for things it's not to have.

the hours squirm like hungry birds. hatchings never sated. crying. mouths agape. wholly dependent upon what yesterday regurgitates.

10:17pm 6-07-04 monday

desoles. sorry now. sorry then. desoles. such a pretty way to say you're sorry. for what you've done. for all that you haven't yet.

fumbling with the minutes as they urge me to keep track. shuffling the cards of darkness to deal their hand to my heart.

it's easier sometimes. most times. to just pretend you're all right. cuz they all like me then. in doing that i still feel alone, but a little less.

if everyone was a poet perhaps life would be beautiful then. lives would always rhyme. and no end would ever be permanent.

forever could've happened while we weren't looking. shot off like a rocket into the dark. headed for the moon or perhaps even farther yet. forever exists only in our hearts. never in our heads.

right now, love seems so very selfish. so shallow and decadent. it just wants what it wants and so seldom gives. it moves in like a thunderstorm and drenches. and then disappears as quickly as it came. leaving the flowers to die again. it's only a moment and then it's gone. and i sit there soaked in the residue. shivering and angry. not understanding. not sure that i want to.