Dark Poetry Prose Poetry August 5, 2005 Dark Poetic Prosehopeless as the last leaf in autumn when all the rest have already fallen | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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08-05-05 10:16pm friday inward turns the hollow. in rapid defiance the earthquake swallows itself. nothing is moved. yet nothing is where it should be. there isn't any place left to put all those edges of the world. nor hard-rubbed echoes from the center. all that ever was. is. resonates like a tuning fork vibrating inside my skull. sink the lids. lower still. there's nothing left to see. collapse the lips. there are no words left to say. only written earnest in malicious pursuit. of the empty which replenishes. the chalkboard which cannot be erased. the faded patches that wears the heart upon its knees. the birth of a hole in those much too comfortable jeans. slower the fingers until. the glass clutches. clings to. what was pain is nothing now. the beat of your heart in your ears as the world presses down. as close to nothing as anything could ever. should ever come. stale shallows of memory all that are left of such deep oceans. nowhere left to die except inside myself. 08-05-05 friday 11:20pm not what is written. not what is said. apt breaths in futility to their choked lungs lend. vivid like the spark of dreaming has begun. bright and full with abject anticipation. not what was touched. not flesh sneaked into. that skin to protect you from. to mold your pleasure into art until softly you leave it to crumble. uncured. this potter's wheel of thoughts tries to shape, but more often the clay only falls apart. this spinning. this measure to refine. when at last it halts, the figures that remain are not anything i'd desire to keep. not what is remembered when lost eyes close in on themselves. and all the colors of the world outside turn to black. only left now, with experience to guide. such a faulty map. not what i tried to be. not what i am. everything forgotten. because it must be. instead, just what we meant to, real for once. guarded by the ghosts of tragedy. jailed in a lonesome dungeon. be free still the same, to roam the castles afterwards commits.
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