Dark Poetry Prose Poetry September 6, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

9-06-03 saturday 6:48am brick NJ

now that everything has been and done. knowing just how it is. old words resonating in my head. like lies you can't prove did, but you know them. just as certain as you know your own.

if i cast my heart all bloody into the ocean why then am i surprised when the sharks come. and when it's time to reel them in. collect my prize for my effort and sacrifice i can't. i have to let them go. cuz they were never mine. they were just hungry. and i had something to feed them.

if alone is how i am left when the day has ended and all the falsehoods i've protected were hit. sliced wide open. if alone is how i've always been why does it still hurt this much. and all the false friends i've collected have gone off to live their real lives. admitted or at least underscored the fact the i am. if this is how it's always been why does it feel new every time. i guess if you need it badly enough you can begin to believe in the lies. maybe love is just how lonely you are and how willing you've become to take it regardless.

9-06-03 9:20pm brick NJ saturday

nights without explanation. thoughts without hesitation. i'm lonely now. and i don't care how. i just want to be wanted. just want to feel good again.

i'm so wrong. and i'm so jaded. i'm lonely now. and i don't care how. i just want to feel something good again.

don't need to be loved. in such things i can't trust. just want to feel. to be felt. to suffer the night in long indications of just how weak flesh is. i feel. i love. too much and then i write. i glow in the darkness like a firefly caught in a jar. i don't need to love again. i don't need another friend. i need affection. i need us to be who we are. we're not love. we're not friends. we're just these needs we have that the other amends.

i want to be wanted. i haven't forgotten how good it felt to. wrong never crossed my mind when. i haven't stopped remembering how. friends are better left untouched. and love is better left to those who can afford the cost. i don't want to be loved. don't want to be friends. i just want to be wanted. to be made to feel beautiful again. to feel the sensations envelop me as they once did. so lost in the absense of myself. so intoxicated with how it felt.

if the night questions my intentions i can only answer by ignoring its accusations. if skin remembers long after i've told it to forget am i still to be held accountable. if affection breeds in this empty soul faster than i can ask it not to. it's the touch. the sensation. that feeling of being wanted. lost inside the nothing that sex persues. i just want to be wanted. to taste again that sweetness when nothing matters except.