Dark Poetry Prose Poetry June 11, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

6-11-03 wednesday 9:08pm brick NJ

if it's loss or if it's strain. if it's tomorrow or if it's yesterday. could it really matter at all. will these jaded eyes see the difference? and even if they could, would it matter when?

time counts me less. and i count her more than ever. the days design their websites, but they give me only broken images.

i used to say webmaster, but now i try to refrain from saying anything. i used to create the pages, but now they create me.

a friend or two. a past that hardly seems worth the task. so much to remember, but far too little i want to. good for poetry, but nothing else. metaphor and rhyme build a psuedo life oustide the confines of my reality. but they leave me behind. thoughts exceed the limitations of what i can be. i write to this night, but i write no longer to you. or anyone. now i write to no one. by mere virtue of the fact that alone is where life has led me again.

i stepped outside the hard shell of pages and solitude. i opened the gate to myself. they came. they conquered. they showed me once again why i had been there to begin with. i exposed it all. i trusted because love demands we must. it happened. it was an experience. but mostly it just reminded why i'd gone away in the first place.