Dark Poetry Prose Poetry June 28, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

6-28-04 monday 11:14am

in time all fruit goes rotten. whether plucked from or still attached to the vine. people are no different. it's just a slower process.

in every breath that is taken there are twice as many given away. for every lonely night i've wasted there awaits equally as many disparate days.

in time all milk does sour. be it in the carton or left in the belly of the cow. everything expires. if all things must perish, matter it when or how?

11:51am monday 6-28-04

thy blinded sun does gawk,
knelt in clouds and
summer haught;

thy azure moon does taunt,
draped in stars
and wishes caught;

thy bleating heart does sulk
drenched in doubt and
and in loneliness fraught;

twas once upon a time
when the child still
wearing the freshest skin
and none a wrinkle yet
to hold these sorrows in;

tis now much later since,
as clocks so fade once pink cheeks,
and many moons have these skies graced
all else about her changes except
inside always that abysmal ache.

06-28-04 monday 9:20pm

time doesn't hear us when we lament. it just counts the sighs until all falls silent. so i write. talk quietly to myself. because i listen. i listen when. there are only a very few things any one person really needs. and to be heard is at the top of that list.

hear me. hold me. be there when. that's all there is to happiness.

6-28-04 monday 9:30pm

so lines do slope in different curves. and colors wash in waves of dark. til i lean back to finally observe. the mind is a mystery. the heart even moreso. pain is all that i can understand. it's the only thing that seems to make sense in this world of woulda, coulda, shoulda haves.

as each day does chisel away deeper mortices, i await the hinges they're meant to hold. cuz i so much need to swing in a different direction. all that i've left open desperately needs to be closed.

there's no one to write about now. just ghosts in my head. there's no one to want now. just old lovers posing as friends.