Dark Poetry Prose Poetry July 3, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

9:46pm 07-03-05 sunday

found not inside the world which resides within. nor wrods that tease at what i could've known. and never did. discovered only in losing everything. all charade of being who moves this skin from beneath.

contained in what steals me from myself when she is who i try to be. in the flame, but not burnt by it. at its center it is cold and harmless. like all people are if you venture that deep.

found by the loss of. swimming in shallow puddles of thought. only a drizzle falls now. and all the time. only small indents in the soil dare collect what drops from.

no downpours come to deluge. wash away to begin anew. no sun parts the sky. to waken dormant grasses or dry up all that is damp. but the rain it sputters on. idly in the wind. always just barely enough to keep this world alive.

diving off the rim down into a pool of only inches thick. only one way to land.

determined to leave myself behind. not just go there. but become that island.

07-03-05 11:30pm sunday

time is a cigarette. it fills me with a slow death.

when everything is a blackboard. chalky problems half solved. hanging there in your head.

when i forget how to write, i just fake it. swallow quick and hope it will still serve to medicate. exhume those corpses.

nothing's dead. but so much is buried. that's the conundrum of having lived.

might they go quietly. that's their right. turning leaves. so many colors i'll never know. more than the name of. not ever really what they mean.

so many seasons flirting with. they come and go. ice forms and then it melts. and there i splash in those puddles again.

everything changes. but nothing does.

they're the same people i'd always hoped to know. just now they don't want to know me.

they're the same people i'd always loved. only now they offer me no reasons.