Dark Poetry Prose Poetry August 17, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

08-17-05 wednesday 10:17pm

the fissure between science and emotion. like a great gorge between humanity and its understanding of itself. is this real. what i feel now. what i've felt before. or just the circumstance of evolution. what am i? pawn, rook or bishop in this chess game we call living?

what squares can i touch upon and which are forbidden. and that evasive king which i seek to corner, does he exist?

the taste of their tongue tells us it must be genuine. while the pauses that proliferte speak of other theorums.

clinically we are organisms. only just to the world we inhabit, lifeforms. and nothing more.

yet in our minds there are concocted whole worlds of meaning. a grand quilt of stitches interelating to form the entirety of the blanket.

we'll never know if we're cold because it simply doesn't exist or because we've thrown it off. or if when we're warm it's because it does or we're just so convinced.

truth has a sharp sword. but perception a stauncher shield against.

there is a gap. a canyon which engulfs the space between every individual. does it really matter of what we construct those bridges. so long as they manage to take us to them.