Dark Poetry Prose Poetry September 8, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

9:10pm 9-08-04 wednesday

it's pain like you've never tasted. apple pie fresh from the oven. it's every thing about yourself you've ever hated covering your eyes like wallpaper.

don't you know i've never spoken. just would mouth the words while i listened. don't you see i was never really born. just fell out of the womb when i lost my grip.

patio chair lives that rusted cause we left them out long passed summer. the wind. the snow. the ice. it all fell on them. and these charcoal hearts won't be catering anymore picnics.

the rust has settled. the rain has stopped. but i'm still searching for that tender spot where the steel opens up and lets you look inside.

it's happiness, the likes of which i'll never fathom. orbitting these lives like some quintessential comet. it's happiness. that something you see in the heavens distant. that you can watch as it races across, but can never hope to touch it.

did i not mention how easy it is. to let the current do just what it should. i think i said once that i never make decisions. i only let things happen.

it's alone. like the past you feel there under your skin. such a large portion of your blood and yet easy to dismiss. sight unseen. notion complied. who cares what has happened when there's so much that hasn't yet.

it's pain and i've tasted it. warm apple pie fresh from the oven. it's pain and it's just as good as you've imagined. better now. better now that there's so much of it.