Dark Poetry Prose Poetry September 27, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

9-27-03 saturday 9pm brick NJ

ripples in the flesh can spread outward infinite. trenches in the soul collect all those wayward feelings as they try to navigate their way through your darkness. or that was the plan when plans were still a part of this.

it's easy to move through the motions and extract every particle of pleasure from them when you've nothing to lose. when there is no threat. when you're just a hunter craving blood and power. and all those sweet chemicals that compound the effects.

but what if i should feel something else. what if in truth i always did. just that i denied it for as long as i was able, but eventually it did win. what if all those motions were never without their sappy companions. what if every thrust only served to push them deeper in. that all the while i was denying those feelings were busy becoming so real. so permanent.

love and sex and friends i could come to enjoy and trust. they seem to go together well when lonely hearts don't want too much. love and sex and friends is a safe haven when you need and want, but. so why'd my own heart betray me. why couldn't it just leave well enough.

fault lines in life suddenly erupt where you never knew they were. and the latitude of touch stretches far beyond the boundaries we've set. quakes thrill you as they wound. and as you hobble home to mend you know you'll be drawn back to that danger again. as you sit alone afterward you know it isn't over yet. that the longitude of love stretches much farther than your feeble objections.

you used to deny. you denied it until it forced your hand. and now you admit. not without hesitation. but all too aware of just how it is. i wanted to deny for the duration. let it be as easy and good as when it first started. i guess it's impossible to spend so much time. to share so much with someone and not succumb to the situation. i guess i should've known a heart's just not to be trusted. not my own. not anyone else's.

9-27-03 saturday 10:25pm brick NJ

to have this chance to be here, alone. to write. to consider how and why and if. to clutch those bottles like medicine knowing that i shouldn't. to listen as the songs persist. revealing moments in myself i hadn't acknowledged.

i used to write just because that's what i did. but the years absorbed. reasons changed. i'll write again for those same reasons i would imagine, but for now there are others. like you and me. and how it's so easy to forget yourself in such things.

long before there was an us i fell in love with my own pain and we've been in love ever since. long before my life decided it was going to live, i'd dug my own grave more than once.

it began as a question of whether i could ever trust. but before i could decide it had become another reason that i shouldn't. because i don't love to be loved. i'm not alive to live. i'm just here. always have been. like surfing the waves. i'll make you high and then sink you in the same breath. like dreaming that perfect dream, eventually you must wake up. i'm willing to love, even if it means all the fun is gone. because in my heart they don't mix. i'm willing to to play if that's still what you want. cause in my heart love isn't made to be cherished. it's made to be torn apart.