Dark Poetry Prose Poetry September 21, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

09-21-04 tuesday 7:54pm

shadow of a hand. over there. some darker me pointing at. i'm not much here. nor anywhere. i'm not transparent, though it might sometimes appear.

discharging feelings like pus from wounds. my own skin the bandage it soaks right through.

i let those loves bleed right out of me. right through my fingers. calm and easy.

shadows on the wall. over there. darker memories recall. it's never more than how we let it end. we can't take it all with us. only the little we can spare.

i'm not much myself. not much anyone. just a shadow on the wall waiting for the sun.

10pm 9-21-04 tuesday

it's nothing but. you know how nothing is. so full of shit.

life gives us wings. no one needs someone else to help them fly. it's the nest. it's the nest that they seek.

i listen like summer does. long, long nights doting on. but i can't speak. so i write.

everything is the same in the end. just what you wanted that either you got or you didn't. either your happiness or else your grief.

i'm betting on mercury cause it's fast. but i'm hoping for venus to win. this race bgean long before i placed my first bet. and it'll keep on going long after i'm dead.

don't you think i am aware of how easy it is to just not care. nothing has a purpose other than the one that we assign to it. nothing. no one means anything until they mean soemthing to someone else.

cause you're no good all by yourself. you're of no use to anyone. you're just a planet without a sun. frigid. or else you're a sun without any planets to circle it. bright and hot, but useless.

it's nothing but. you know how it is. nothing's so full of shit.

everything is nothing until there's something that needs it.