Dark Poetry Prose Poetry June 25, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

06-25-05 saturday 9:46pm

no phantom pose can convince. eyes that see nothing of your outside. only see within.

the world hasn't yet invented any medicine that can cure this illness. it's only suffer through til you're better or else drown in it. but what if i suffer and still don't get better. what if i suffer more than i already am and it doesn't make any difference.

then there'd be no redemption to crave. no recovery to lust. and i'd truly be hopeless.

that darkness just before the dawn? in my world there is no sun.

freewill. i do believe in it. no fate deciding who i am. just me to blame for all of this.

but i don't think i'll give it up. let go up what i've become. i don't like it better. i like it numb.

i don't fear getting worse. falling has its freedoms.

i can't face myself as i once was. all brooding and sober. feeling every inch of myself. with the ache wearing my like i'm its glove. as every fist it makes crushes.

i'd rather die wallowing in this pit. my words my only companion. i'd rather that than going back to who i've been.

06-25-05 saturday 11:50pm

how can you not know what i need. when i feel so certain about what you do.

just because i can't tell you what it is, doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to prove.

or it does i guess, if there's nothing to link these lives in their sentient quests.

how can i be expected to stay quiet and calm when nothing else is.

i want to feel like. and this is how i do. breath by bated breath. in the rivers of my throat in floats. just like any boat abandoned.

there's no way to go back. all that pavenment''s been torn up. the choice i made then, is the choice i've been making ever since. even if i could change it, i wouldn't.

because she isn't someone i could ever stand to be again.

if it's an excuse. which it might be. so what. when you've slain your own demon, then by all means, come to me, show me how easy it is.

how repugnantly life begs us to live. especially as it feels its hold weakening. but i'm no amateur. i've driven this course so many times before.

even if the leaves refuse to fall, they will be pushed away eventually. for those new ones to take their palce.

even if the winter never gets that cold. and the summer not so warm. the seasons sitll are. as real as they've ever been.

i can't make it happen. can only let it.