Dark Poetry Prose Poetry Julty 12, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

10:41am 07-12-04 monday

cloaking still fervent blooms. pursuant droplets lick the leaves.

catch me briefly as the dead star shines. brighter than ever while on its way to die.

black dreams that morning rends. both cursed and mystified by these witches' cauldrons in my head.

i thought of you for just a moment. because this day most does lend.

i thought there is no card. no present fit. just a stranger whose name i know. no reason left to give.

07-12-04 monday 10:27pm

i would've said something sooner. just couldn't think of what. i would've spoken louder. if i thought that then i'd be heard. but every word in my head always seemed a contradiction of what the outside indicated.

i've changed everything on the outside. that's easy, but could never change what matters. what lay beneath this skin.

there are all kinds of places to travel to. and so many vehicles from which to choose. there are infinite ways to express how you feel. but for all those choices still, every one of them is useless when. when no one wants what you have to give them.

there are shadows on the sun. and light where shadows roam. there are reasons to live. and reasons to die. and i know so many of each of them.

there are people that try to matter, but don't. and ones you wish didn't that still insist. there's all these speeches that linger in my throat as each opportunity to speak them tells me to let them go.

it's sad to see you leave like this. to see it happen with anyone. i never wanted you to leave. but that is what you've chosen.

07-12-04 monday 10:41pm

time does bleed the minutes as it flesh lays open in my guilty hands. life does acquiesce so easily to the hard definitions i place in its path. i hope that you'll forgive me for my inability to accept so much less from you. i hope you understand. that this alone you've left me with is not the kind of carcasss i can let you pick at.

even dead it still deserves some amount of respect. even if it's dead it still deserves better than to be made into carrion. even if it's dead, that doesn't mean my feelings for it are yet.

it's been too much of the same old song. maybe i guess, i chose them. but even still, it could've played nicer than this.

maybe i choose the same song over and over again. the one that begins and ends in sadness. i guess i do. but even still. you didn't have to choose to dance with me. even still, something could've been salvaged. if you wanted to. it didn't have to be be this silent. but i guess that's what you want.

11:10pm monday 07-12-04

maybe it's only now dark, but it seems it always is. maybe the truth always beats in my heart, but i choose not to listen.

cause i've no need for truths that tell me what's missing. what i don't have. or can't. or have otherwise lost.

if i could say. or if even you would. if anyone could. but what's left to say now. what's left to say after the funeral has ended.

i'm just the temporary skin your snake shed. was nothing more than a phase. now you've new flesh to live in.

sometimes i think that losing is the only way some people know how to win. that to give myself away is the best victory i can imagine.

i used to write to you. before that i wrote to him. but now i just write to myself. and hope that soon i'll be finished.