Dark Poetry Prose Poetry August 28, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

08-28-04 9:53pm saturday

don't you just wish that life listened when you told it. predator smiles on the faces of the hunted. it all seems so unreal now. anything i've ever loved.

the days are long waiting for people to decide whether they've forgotten or if. it's not easy to breathe sucking on the tailpipe of friendship.

i guess they all should be gone. i don't know why. it's not what i really want. but what am i? just a sigh from nothing's lips. who i am to keep anyone. who am i to have anything like this.

people afterall are what they believe. wings on the wind unaware of gravity. hearts lunge as they choke for oxygen. when you can't breathe you take any source of air. when you're healed, you no longer need them.

the ways that it occurs are mystifying. just to sit back and watch the frenetic trajectory of these lives. rockets' red glare and such. from countdown to lift off it's a humbling experience. and the flight. the flight is never ever long enough.

i guess i'll miss them now that they're gone. though i made it a point never to let them know it before they had left. we all have our strenghts and our weaknesses. in ourselves. in our friends. but you must be careful not to assume which is which.

saturday 08-28-04 10:19pm

in your open eyes,
wrought with decades of both
metaphorical and literal goodbyes;

you see like darkness does
with vision unfettered by
the limitations of sight;

what loves you
and what you
choose to love;

meets nowhere else but,
the heaven's only smile;

for the leather within
and the suede outside,
softer now than they've ever been;

darkness plunges its
sharp claws in
and takes flight;

carried away on the
memory of when,
it still seemed possible;

in your words like mice,
nibbling on their cages
though the latch is open;

in your friends disguised
with lovers' costume wigs,
it's there the masquerade admits;

that love was truth,
but truth does lie;

that i was not loved for myself,
but for the fact that i;

so silent as i remember now,
the last refrain does not sing,
instead it listens;

while i take note carefully
of all the ways that
they lied to me.