Dark Poetry Prose Poetry October 4, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

10-04-03 saturday 5:35pm brick NJ

the sun lies right to my face. all full of darkness hidden in her yellow waves. while the night abets these crimes we perpetrate. like living and breathing and all the futile moments that they attract. like a whore life sells itself for another hit of pleasure. but the more you get the weaker the effects. need more and more. or maybe a whole lot less.

you bruise me in more ways than one. those that show are nothing compared to those that don't.

i don't know if i feel nothing or so much so that i can't accept it. i don't know why it changed. i only know that it has. i still like it when you hurt me. push me around and pull me. but the pleasure is lessened each time by a bit. i don't know if it's that i love you too much or if it's that i never really did. i don't know if it's that i don't believe you love me or if i'm afraid that you do.

10-04-03 saturday 8pm brick NJ

the hours confide. secrets in yourself. absent and not missed. there's still the scent of life in the hole where it once did exist. the night confirms. leanings and urges with too much sway. friends and pledges so betrayed.

i wonder should i say something to you. or just write it down like before. when we still had yearnings, but no memories yet. it feels like i should say something new. or write a few sentences that expose a little more flesh than those other things we do.

when writing like this. to someone. to you. the purpose there pounding on my chest. last night throbbing in my head. when writing this way. it's just as much a victim as it is a threat. the bullet and the target one in the same when.

should i wax poetic. shall i search for simile. stroke the metaphors until they give in to my advances. make love to the pages since everything else is just sex.

and i wonder how tomorrow will find you. or how tonight does. safe at home in the comfort of the beautiful life you've made or wishing that you hadn't. and the things you'd never give up. and those that you could do without. and the things that give themselves to you. and how it feels to take them. hold them and own them just like possessions. and to move through the passion like swimming underwater. how it feels to break the surface and breathe again. alive again, but is that what we wanted.

i'll feel it like a song shooting through my head. submit to the role i have chosen. consent. how far can it take us. when does it end. decisions. how easy they were to choose. how hard they are to live with.

10-04-03 saturday 10pm brick NJ

just stay with me a while. stay here until i can be alone again without thinking about how much i am. just stay here like you want nothing more than. or if not, then tell me right now. let me begin the healing process.

tell me why midnight changes all our intentions. why saturday has different plans that friday and sunday have.

tell me what's hidden under your shirt that i am not allowed to see. and why you think you should be able to see all of me. and if you think you have. if you think it's come to that. that i'm so wide open like a child who knows no better than.

i know just what we crave. know just what we have. all the ways in which we drag out of life the basest of pleasures.

i can't complain since. i can't protest. where and why and how and if seem so contrite now that it's all been done and left these impressions on my flesh.

i can't complain. pain is my addiction. all kinds. all sources. and how dysfunctional can we be that. how tense can it get until it bursts open. a million pieces no one can recontsruct. a thousand reasons we never should have.

how i push. how you pull. how we tempt. all just more reasons to keep at. grabs and jabs at anything that would put meaning into this empty situation we've contrived to express. empty bottle atonements for all your sins. they're useless. just passing moments you won't remember when. driving rhythm in the course of listening. rumbling flesh. so atuned to every movement. forgetting. forgetting everything else that follows it.

answered phones quiet now. and goodbye. how easy was it. waiting for it to find just how much it is. emptied bottles wondering if they'll ever suffice. and asking how. why i did. why i didn't. and what was sent. what never found. you heard me. you pushed like everything depended upon it. drive me down. bury me. we wanted more than we could have. we tried to hide, but it found us. we tried to play like it never mattered, but it was obvious. it meant so much. it took everything the flesh could want and made the heart have to question why it was. ask if. and then answer. answer how it's just too much.

10-04-03 saturday 10:30pm brick NJ

i'm dying and you just don't see it. like looking upon a shadow so transparent.

i'm open like pages you can't not read. every setnence breaks me.

i'm dying and you just go right on killing me. cause i beg it. like a wouned soldier who wants nothing more than. to end the sufffering. to forget how it's been. to watch the war subside. to see the bullets forget.

i'm open. vulnerable like a doll that children play with. you play me. so naked like. plastic limbs look for nerve ends that don't exist.

i'm dying and you just revel in it. i can't say that i didn't request. but why isn't it easy. why is what i wanted suddenly not it.

tasting and twisting like a moon on the verge of sunset. watch the orange and purple paint your life with. ask the bruises if they remember why they did. revel in how you came to be this. hate yourself and love it. it's what you do best.

ask them. listen as they give answers you can't accept. hear the silence as it reminds you how much you've been. can't touch. never did. it wasn't anything except. the hours will remember when you forget. the nights will keep score when you've forgotten what for. you can play rough, but when you wake up it'll hurt. you can play rough. love it so much. but in the morning you'll know just why you shouldn't have. come the next day you'll ask yourself why. come morning you won't have an excuse for why it hurts so much. and the bruises you've collected won't be enough to convince this flesh that it should stay. come morning you'll ask yourself why you did it. but the answer is still in question. like listening to yourself think. like struggling against the very thing you want. right there in your face. it's so true you have to deny. it's so much all that you want, you gotta tell yourslef it's not.