Dark Poetry Prose Poetry July 6, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

7-06-04 tuesday 10pm

dreams do come much before sleep does. rainbows of infatuation with their scoprion's sting.

breathing continues to occur long after death has taken hold. life rides dead steeds on saddles made of gold.

this heart just can't count fast enough. it's still marking off the boxes where i placed the wrong answers. in red ink. with x's bold. it's still trying. still trying to get over.

i'm no good at being angry. even worse at hating. just continue on loving all the things that never loved me. is it the fault of the poet or the girl. i might never know. it doesn't really matter i suppose. it just is regardless. until at last it decides not to be.

my love is an orphan. it has no family. no home. all i know is how to love. how it continues to give and is taken. how it gives and gives. and never gains.

the sun doesn't rise. nor does it set. it's just a frown on the horizon that grins as.

tomorrow no longer offers. and yesterday has little left. memory's cold picture frames house still photographs. false indications.of happiness. tricks of light that all these shadows wept.

it's worse now than it's ever been. not so much the losses, but what i have left. this cruel nothing so hungry for a balance i can no longer offer it. so the scales do tip. and i watch. watch with wide eyes as my reflection instigates..

so i watch. watch as the minutes slither away like snakes. and keep hoping the venom will have the right effect. but it only paralyzes. never gives me what i really wanted. i guess i should try to take it. since it won't give. i should at least try.

cuz i can't recover from this depth. i can't and don't want to find the surface. i can't come back from where i've been. so i ought to go as deep as it asks. pray that it allows me this one last wish. please. just please allow me this.