Dark Poetry Prose Poetry August 30, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

08-30-05 tuesday 11:13pm

perpetual is the hang of the moon. whether or not we can see it. small lives dominated by forces too big to measure, let alone resist. and all those tiny ones. that swarm inside our heads.

i don't know them. i always wanted to, but they would never let.

feelings trump sense in any situation. and i've felt alone ever since.

the pebble from which the tree grows has not gotten that big. it was just one of the ingredients.

if there is a balance between kindness and self-defense. if the flesh and the blade could ever cooperate. i don't think they can. but what cuts are made are without malice.

i don't have reason. just a memory or two. images imprinted that won't fade.

i can only be as good as i feel. and as bad the same.

on turbulent oceans this boat does rock, but not without a destination.

8-30-05 tuesday 11:25pm

there's no number to. no way to measure how. much it means in that moment. how long it lingers in the aftermath.

a breath may escape with telling urgency. a gaze may hint at. but all is still unknown as turns the page to begin a new chapter.

one moment of happiness. or so the story goes. is all that it takes to reveal your true nature. uncork the genies you keep in their bottles below the surface.

one moment of anything is all that's required to change everything. how flesh feels to your fingers. how penetrating the nothing is.

there are no markers that plot the course lives should take. no way to know the difference between roadkill and strays.

no alarm that sounds when it's real. nor watermark that shows when it's not.

there's only the sound of their breathing when it's there in your ears. and the echo that keeps repeating after they're gone.