Dark Poetry Prose Poetry September 18, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

09-18-05 sunday 12am

take note. the arm is rigid. the needle soft. the ink it injects dark.

how? how can you still not know me yet?

learn. from what you put into and what you give.

how many? how many strangers does it take to find a friend?

it's the hour that disturbs with its futile precision. so unlike the manic flow of thoughts as they ricochet against these words.

how can i be repressed as these sensations boil and burn? how can i be anything now that nothing matters?

it's before that we question. and after that we learn. the darkness has grown no darker. but the light has weakened. truth is, i never wanted to see.

how can i feel again? do i want to?

this taste in my mouth, so familiar. tongue sweating. lips numb. the kiss of solitude so dominant.

how could those restraints have any effect now? i've worn them so long. i only feel alive when i am a victim.

09-18-05 sunday 11:23pm

if you're gone. if you're not. how do i know.

push my other eyes closer to my first. put my second breath between my lips. and wait. for the damage to do what it's promised.

dive in. split the skin of that lake i dug. swim down. measure the depth. hope that it's enough to keep me there until.

if i'm here. if i'm gone. how can they tell.

look at. see me walk passed. it proves nothing.

put the template to my brow. make this breakdown fit. put the liquid in my hands and let it sink into my skin.

it's not over. but it should be. i'm just not strong enough yet. or maybe it's the weakness that i need.

the pale hour where life stumbles off its cliff. and at long last, it's too late for them to save me.