Dark Poetry Prose Poetry August 9, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose
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Dark Art
your eyes slit these wrists and kill me so much better
than i ever did
knowing life is a scab, a crusty, bloody seal of a wound. and wanting so much to pick at.
Sad Poems
by the alcoholic poet.
08-09-05 tuesday 6:44am
what dark mornings become those of which we slumber into with eyes wide open. what moments we wither into with prosaic grief as the blossom of our desire stiffens under a merciless sun.
wake yet not, those sleeping corpses. as tireless fingers tug against the loosened soil about their beds.
sleep still and dream again. of time not chronic. and loves not wasted.
Poetry
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Art/Sad Art 1
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the art of this
site neatly compiled into two pages.
Thinking
(Wanted To Say)
Feeling
(Just Words)
Always (You)
404 (error page)
Four Oh For
(human stain)
Such Unusual Ideas Caught In Dead Eyes
(Suicide)
Who? (To Whom)
What (I Want)
Why? Part 1
Why? Part 2
Why Not?(for scooter)
When?(for mcdoofus)
How?(for myself)
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Old Poems
we have to go back!
God Jesus Satan
she sees God. He doesn't see her.
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Deep Thoughts for the Day
Awesome Costumes for Halloween
sometimes
i think it would be nice to be fragile. then maybe once in a while someone would
be gentle
i feel so lost, especially when the sun shines, that
it accentuates how dark, how dark is my life.