Dark Poetry Prose Poetry July 29, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

7-29-03 10am tuesday brick NJ

angry boys with venom tongues,
lonely shy girls much too young.

seductions washed in molson ice,
naked bodies covering empty lives.

angry boys looking like men,
sad little shy girls pining for them.

7-29-03 4:28pm tuesday brick NJ

i don't, but i know i could. how easy it would be for me to let down my guard and fall in love.

it doesn't happen often, but when it does.

i can't. so i hope you'll understand. if i close the door on you sometimes it's only because i have to.

7-29-03 8:55pm tuesday brick NJ

that word you never said. or couldn't. purpose smothered in lack of courage. like drowning from the inside out.

building your life with sparse bridges. each step is a victim of gravity.

loving yourself in the destruction of. harsh methods breed harsher situations.

every day covets the next. thinking. dreaming that tomorrow like a magician can vanish all those demons. safely remove the tiger from the cage and put it back into the wilderness. free again.

just conversations with yourself. boths sides debated. many questions. possible answers. but not certain. not yet.

why love again when i can deny myself. a new drug. a new way to test the limits of depression and temperance.

why love again when i will surely regret it. and still the irony makes its argument. the proper situation never led to anything. maybe the bad situation is the one i've always needed.

that place you never left, but thought you had. deja vu apparitions clang their chains and dance in the attic.

that moment you've been lost in, without knowing it had even happened. til it was gone. and then like a sudden thunderstorm you are soaked in it.

7-29-03 9:27pm brick NJ tuesday

listening as if every word has blood on it. holding back. strong as i can. as if every sentence is a threat.

moonbeam eyes can look so happy sometimes. then they change again.

too much to write. too many places i need to find. waking. breathe again. the sour stench of life rotting my flesh.

too close at a distance. nearsighted, yet persistent.

as if reaching out is the same as reaching in. as if arms could stretch far enough to touch the world again.

never seeking. but sometimes found.

sudden and inappropriate. the night gives reasons in a language of its own. but i can't interpret.

relationships run races like hares against tortoises. in the lead for a while, but they never win.

7-29-03 8pm brick NJ tuesday

no words when i need them most.
resurrection of the soul
after such a long death.

wake up in the morning,
everything the same.
til one face - one presence
gets inside your head.
blows the whole fucking
world wide open.

if i'm broken,
if you get cut sometimes
on my sharp edges,
i'll lick your wounds
until they've mended.