Dark Poetry Prose Poetry September 1, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

09-01-04 wednesday 9:20pm

the people. they're just sounds. knotted strings of thoughts none of which i can make out.

their voices linger. like shadows do on sunset. and the sweet perfume scent of someone you wish hadn't left.

it approaches now slow and cautious. like a hunting tiger. shall i make tomorrow mine or do i let yesterday continue on.

dissecting the night like a formaldehyde frog. just as inept now as i was back then. in middle school. these words just as dull as that overused scapel.

to cut it open and see what's inside. as if life is something flesh can hold. they're just organs and bones. nothing but the skeleton for what we really are.

and here it is. on my desk. life so far. there like a long to do list without a single check.

it's approaching. that too late i thought would never arrive. and i really wouldn't care atl all except. except i've nothing to show for it.

i never wanted it, but there it is coming up the drive. i'd give it all back if i could. go back and not have ever lived. wouldn't that be the perfect ending to this life.

wednesday 09-01-04 10pm

nine days after the fact something had changed. a week wasn't quite enough. and ten days were a little too much. nine days if you bothered to count them. lay your heart upon your watch. living not in the moment, but in its approach.

it lay there. like stains on the carpet. memory a corpse. love a coffin. but no priest. no priest present to bury them.

don't offer me more clues when i've long since solved the mystery. don't try to tell me someone else is the victim when i've already seen the body.

nine days later doesn't seem like much time. depends on what you're waiting for. depends on what you've sent away. and what you expect to arrive.

nine. cuz seven aren't enough. and ten are too much.

nine. just on the cusp of double digits. but afraid to change. upwards of where we've been. but so much less than we were able.

coulda been. just another engine that didn't turn over. choking for ignition. eager feet and hungry keys tugging on strings that aren't attached to anything.

i know. always did. just like maggots know which bodies are dead. i know where it took off. and i know where it landed. i took that same flight. and now i'm jet lagged.

nine days. if you can beleive that. was all it took. to go from there to here. nine days. that's more than enough to figure out how it would.

10:47pm 09-01-04 wednesday

you are someone i can always love regardless of whether you love me. so different from. and yet so alike. i may never touch you again. because life is simpler that way. but i'll always wish that i could. that you would turn round and decide to offer me that choice again.

there's a soft arc that happens when starlight tries to reach the moonbeams. and some eyes see the difference while others don't. there's a frail margin betwen this is what i need and this is what i can have. and though we never surpassed, you'll still be. always will. that feather these wings couldn't forget. long after flight has left it behind still it is missed.

i know what i know because of you. i love what i do becuase i remember when. it was a long time ago and there are only tombstones left, but the grass just refused to grow over those graves. all this time those losses are still waitng to be wept.

you're the only one i could still love for all that's been. you leave me with no reason to, but i don't care. that's not what it's about.

a little boy. a little girl. a page we couldn't read.

i don't think someday. don't think ever. i just think that it's a shame. it's a shame we couldn't be what we wanted to.