Dark Poetry Prose Poetry June 29, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

06-29-04 tuesday 9:36pm

outside myself. outside or in. is of little consequence. shadows roll like dice. arbitrary combinations of numbers which decide the difference between the winners and the losers. as if there really is.

we're just sailboats. we can't argue with the direction of the wind. we're just friends. in that saddening sense of how we've very little left.

outside myself. or in. i can't tell. all i miss i laugh at now. all those charmed sentiments haven't charmed me since. i'm too old for this.

i never really did learn how to hate. it's just a habit i picked up from my mother. too forgiving. to apt to overlook. i think sometimes that i should be angry, but i just don't know how. just a trait i picked up too young to do anything about.

i can live without anything i've ever wanted cause i''ve never been able to let myself need any of it. so don't worry about me. don't play the guardian when i wasn't asking. i never wanted your protection. and whatever i thought i did want doesn't matter now.

all we've ever been are lightning bolts waiting on a thunder storm. some excuse to strike again. or at least that's how it feels to me when i remember then. bright and loud and hot. slicing the sky in half to reach that sweet spot.

i didn't need you to show me what i am. what i'm not. i already had passed all those tests. so one more time. one more time and never again. we'll just be friends.

and furthermore, i'll let that go as it requests.

i don't need another big brother. don't need a second father. i have a brother. he's the only one i need. and fathers in my eyes are sperm donors, nothing more..

i don't need a guardian angel. since in angels i don't believe. but even if i did, you're not up to the task. i'd rather see you tend to all your other responsibilities than waste your time worrying about me.

outside myself. or in. there's little difference. buoys in the undertow. that's all we've ever been. tethered to the waves we mark. unsinkable indicators of the depths in which we dance. where others would drown we can only swim. it's as cruel a survival as there has ever been.

i don't forget. don't hate you. only open my eyes to find that the dream has ended. and just like every dream i've ever dreamt there's little chance of ever dreaming it again.