Dark Poetry Prose Poetry September 17, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

9-17-03 wednesday 10:40pm brick NJ

the chair you sit. the chair you live. it breathes you as you move in it. black leather reflections of what your life has kept hidden. spinning. rocking sensations of a something you've touched. held, but could not keep.

crank the cap like an engine. twist it as if everything can bend. run your fingers through your hair and remember how it felt when.

the chair you dream. the fringes of a world you've only glimpsed. your chair spinning as you wish. worn out leather impressions of all the nights you've gathered. feeble representation of what it's witnessed. all that has compressed its cushions. worn out its flesh.

this chair inside these four walls. still like how when i'm writing. or spinning with the fever of a thousand things i'd rather be doing. this chair full of me and so empty because. this chair that once held us as we held eachother. empty now. it holds us no more.