Dark Poetry Prose Poetry September 25, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

09-25-04 saturday 10:04pm

sometimes feelings are as tangible as a hand you can hold. they sit there beside you and lay their head on your shoulder.

it's almost as if they're not a part of you, just some feeble dependent.

molded as it were. slowly shapes become images. so full of dimension. desperately seeking their own reflection. just to see. to find out what they have become.

i could've called the bluff. but i stood nothing to gain from. i could've thinned the paint. but i like the colors even if they aren't the ones i would've picked. i just like any kind of color at all. doesn't matter which.

i was running, but i lost my wind. i was running from myself, but then i was tripped.