Dark Poetry Prose Poetry August 13, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

08-13-04 friday 9:44pm

amber suns in the clouds behind your vision. quoting wings and feather's kiss. to drink the wind like a sweet opiate. and lay down beside my open grave.

know it then. know it now. and still. like the familiar pucker of your flesh as you tilt your head to sigh.

marking time with cigarettes. purple moons laughing as the night recites her poems like an anguished adolescent.

i don't care where you are. where you've gone or been. should i. and if i ever did what difference. slumbering hearts on cliffs edges. look down from that distance like blind men seeing for the very first time. dizzy and humbled and wanting to reach out and feel the depth.

shadows cascade like fountains of darkness. ripple and sway in a dance recital for the loveless. thorns bloom roses. and life learns to die. as each hour passes and again i find. there's nothing. even less than. purple highlights of bruises on white knees. everything is a memory. maybe less. your past is your guide if you can believe it. your past is your knowledge. your faith. or the lack of. evidenced.

memory now is only just a cricket's chirp in infinite black. lonesome song lost in the night. scraping legs. irritated skin. dreams of tomorrow. and memory's that don't seem real.

forgotten faces. soundless voices. and the river bleeds. it seeps slowly into my ocean. cruel tributary infects. the island dialates. it sees, but it's seen. it slowly leans towards land, but the current pushes it back again.

life. or something like it. whatever you wish. i hope you find it. or have found. but i don't. can't

life. as much as i know of it. all those people. all those lies. all those secrets.

life deserves better than this.

10:41pm 08-13-04 friday

wash the grey in red. listen to the silence and tell yourself you never needed them.

paint your heart in brown and green. watch the bark expand. count the rings.

cradle the flame like a distant eye. talk to yourself like a suicide.

hear the razor as it cajoles. vindictive comedian under your skin. listen to the song of the overdose as it seduces. death its lingerie. peace its stockings fishnet.

i couldn've believeed any one of them, but i never would. that old book jacket. those familiar pages. i'd read them before. so many times. i'd worn the ink on my fingertips. from turning. from turning those tired pages.

i just wnat to know what there is. is there anything. anyting at all besides this.

i just want to know why i have to live. is there any reason. any reason beside liars and their victims. is there any reason to know when. i'm so tired of knowing. i just want to forget.