Dark Poetry Prose Poetry July 26, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

10:54pm tuesday 07-25-05

owning to. fattened calf across your knee. bleating hysterical as your hand strokes the back of its neck. and that nail in your heart as the deed ahead approaches.

how can we die. how can we kill. when the world is not ours at all. only just the machinery we're driven through.

should it not turn endless with an acrid repetiion until we beg for it to let us loose. and still it doesn't until every last tooth on these gears hs been ground down so that every inch of our circumference is helplessly smooth.

how can we live. how can we ever move. with these pulleys all about deciding. with these cogs always interlocking. drawing us into.

it's always the same machine from different angles. it's always the same race at different speeds.

no winners. only spectators.

no participants. only slaves.

i still feel it even now. filled with. whole.

i still feel it sometimes when time hold its breath.

pulling down on my ribcage as it attempts to ease its hold on my lungs. i feel it sometimes. and always hope i will never feel it again.