Dark Poetry Prose Poetry June 11, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

6-11-04 friday 7:57am

it's early but, who can tell the difference. the trees still look the same. my heart still wants just what it always does.

it's tomorrow again. in that stupefying sense of how it never really is. nothing changes except the number on the days. and how many more we've lost. how many less we have left.

i'm just a person. too smart to be an animal. too stupid to be a god.

i'm only human. my skin all full of holes. my head all full of expectations.

i'm just your friend. that's all we have left. it's so early but, already it's too late for us.

6-11-04 friday 8:37pm

spawning diseases rumble in my head. like the thunder that preceeds downpours. gives you that loud loud warning right before it gets you all wet.

i was gonna say, but then you had other plans. was gonna flirt with the notion that part of recovery is relapse.

wanted to make you forget. make myself forget too. feel you move through me like waves of music. just one more time hear life sing again.

6-11-04 friday 9pm

so it's your birthday. the day you met the world for the first time. and i guess you've been meeting it ever since. everyday should be your birthday. because you have so much life to live.

so it's your birthday. never think you're getting older. just that you're collecting more and more happiness. don't count the years. just count all that they've meant.

so hey, birthday boy, best wishes from this little girl. so hey, birthday boy, thank you for being a part of this world.

06-11-04 9:47pm friday

on tv and in movies the abnormal ones are always the heros and visionaries. but in reality. we're just ordinary people stuck in not so ordinary places. to move the world might be nice. but if atlas couldn't do it, what chance have i.

on tv and in movies love always finds a way. but in reality it always gets lost. or else leaves not long after it's arrived.

on tv and in movies people have perfect hair and glimmering teeth. but in reality, nothing is ever that neat or that clean. it's a lot of tangles and many stains. and there are no channels to change.

06-11-04 9:55pm friday

vacant. the neon flashes in my eyes. come fill this bed. it's empty and anxious for a taste of flesh. vacancy. electrifies the gases simmering in my heart. pretty colors beg. beat in the darkness like stuttering breaths. flickering. morse code of loneliness. vacant. stiff sheets collecting.

feeling in tiny wrinkles. retaining touches long after they've shed this skin. holding shadows so long after all light has diminished.

vacancy lingering like neon signs buzzing a few blocks from crowded beaches. weary travellers love them briefly. not what they are, but what they have to give.

vacancy like years insisted, but i couldn't admit. now i'm left with. without choice. only the memory of. vacant. remember me like this. cold neon gripping at threads of darkness. trying to be light. but unable to burn that bright.

10:41pm friday 6-11-04

yesterday was only a day ago. and still it seems so far away. yestereday met us face to face. if only i had known how brief. i would've tried so much harder to retain.

like potted plants we reach for those windows. where light still asks. where growth still shimmers. folds in life where it never questions what we've done to it. dry is dry and wet is wet. and all else inbetween is just philospohical rhetoric.

yesterday never guessed how much it meant until tomrrow came to prove. like an alarm going off in my head it rang. rang so sharp with the idea that here is now. and now was then.

it's no use to read. surf over these words like cresting waves. ride them. as if you can hear their heartboeat, though you're deaf.

yesterday meant to, but like us, it was weak. just like everything life has eever needed. a promise left.on the doorstep of a life defeated.