Dark Poetry Prose Poetry September 3, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

09-03-05 1:11am saturday

dormant as what once was your active state. now you are. liquid. dripping form the faucet we cannot mend. now we are handles. hot and cold twisted to relese all that's pent up. but still it doesn't clean us.

there is no measure of what i love. no way to prove its wealth nor its poverty. only what we've known. all that we've lived.

there is no hour that wants more than those once did. when vultures of the heart would descend and peck at the remains of its victims.

so hungry. how we feed it of little consequence.

there is no truth except how i felt then. alive in a world where i'd always been dead. born for the first time into your arms. into the world we almost shared.

you can leave. you can come back. but no matter where you are you'll always be to me just what you were then.

09-03-05 saturday 10:29pm

captive moments on the edge of the mind. every night the waters rise and drown them. every morning they are washed ashore and ressurected.

every night that ocean grows a little deeper still. and expands. swallows another few chews of this island. change is an hourglass. a grain at a time in falls. and though it seems like it will take forever, all too soon, every sepck of your life is at the bottom again.

the urge to turn it over is a strong one, but just leave it be.