Dark Poetry Prose Poetry July 21, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

8:28am 07-21-04 wednesday

if i knew anything at all. if i ever really knew something outside the satin walls of these carefully constructed pages. but i don't. never did. i don't understand what people do. and i don't understand their motives.

so i watch and i listen. but i don't find answers. only more questions.

i never asked for anything. only sometimes let them happen. is that wrong? maybe once in a while i should have.

could it matter now. now that outside summer has given back, but in my head winter still rages.

if every day could be tomorrow, then we'd be so much better off. cuz then every dream would always be possiblle. and nothing would be definite except for the hope in our hearts.

wednesday 7-21-04 6:51pm

messages arrive in invisible boxes. static and ambivalent. messages both invoked and intercepted.

i left one message for tomorrow. and a second for yesterday.

and any incoming are still up for debate.

text that seems to beat like hearts do. pages flow like blood. is it real or just imagined.

have i anymore messages to send still? or to be read. have i anymore messages from or for anyone?

i just don't know.

07-21-04 8:50pm wednesday

now that. now then. - - - if ever - - - you know it better than you care to admit.

i was a person once. now i'm just a friend.

i was supposed to become a woman, but i never really did.

how come. how much. ??? undecided ??? unable to submit. the night is castrated.

s
o

darkness does.

n
o

darkness impatient...

f
r
e
t
s

a million eyes stare down. a silence that proliferates by its own division.

and

y
e
t

the sum of is most unexpected. folds and folds upon. the accordion expands and collapses.

the wheezing music of life as it so happens.

i am. or was - - - perhaps - - - still

open your mouth. open your eyes. open your skin. let the emptiness wear you as it will.

7-21-04 10:32pm

i'm an angryangel. well, no not really, but. something the like. old newspapers. cracking pavement. something similar.

i'm an angryangel. if i only had wings. and innocence. and a heaven to repeal.

or a falling that might yield.

i would've been. just like. feathered limbs. and endless eyes.

i might've been. would've tried.

but angry isn't that appealing. and wings seldom do give flight.

and heaven. oh heaven, it's nice if.

07-21-04 wednesday 10:46pm

so now you know me. or think you once did. maybe so. so what if.

i'm nothing now. maybe less. empty shells even the hermit crabs have left.

so here we go. running hard. breathless. i watch you run for that tomorrow . against the now. and i pray it won't win.

eagle's talons and hawk's wings. a father's love and a husband's commitments.

so i am human. now you see. and you are too. aren't all we.

flesh unravels like loose knitting. but what you never realized is that as easy as it gives it's keeps on taking.

the hours know. they do. the grass grows in the starkest deserts. you only just have to look much closer to see.

time travels. takes us with it. the future is the assassin. and we are its victims.