Dark Poetry Prose Poetry September 24, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

09-24-03 wed. 8:32am brick NJ

i have little to say. little to write. now that i know what it is and have no desire to alter it. of all the ways there are to love and be loved. this must be mine. jagged and unbalanced and teasing gravity as you test its power.

it's just that fairy tales were never real to me. and princes never appealing. no dreams. no future beyond the next few minutes. just now. just how it makes me feel to be wrapped around it.

i don't have much to say lately since i got just what i wanted. it's strange to me. not to need to grieve. to stare at the empty document with nothing to bleed.

i got just what i wanted. but i never knew it was this until i had it. but having what i want feels strange to me. like i shouldn't. that i ought to be miserable. ought to be sad for some reason. but you're there more than enough. and i don't fear when you're not. i ought to be sad for some reason, but i can find none.

9-24-03 10:30pm brick NJ

why i. why us. when everything is as it must, there seems no reason to persue. when the night stabs its rusted blade into. recovery is just a lie.

and i'm constantly accused of being in love. wondering how they could know. if they're wrong, right or just jealous.

time moves in spirals like dreaming when all the dreams are so much yours to decide. lucid and comparable to life. but that much better yet.

sting me like a scorpion and then watch while the venom ravages my system. ask and hope that the anwer will be what you wanted. but it might not.