Dark Poetry Prose Poetry October 9, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

10-09-03 7:30pm brick NJ thursday

the things i say. the words i write. everything that i feel can't be explained by.

these things i feel for you, i've never met them. they're a stranger inside my chest. i only know that they are there. i don't know who they are or what are their intentions.

these things i feel for you. i don't know them. i don't want to. i know that they exist. but i am not ready to befriend this.

flick my head. crack my neck. dull thoughts try to cut the pages, but only end up tearing them.

i think about what i've written. what you've read. put my head down and deny my conscience.

tired. it feels different every time. some days like walking in wet clothes. some nights like sleeping at the center of a fire.

quarter to tomorrow. half way from tonight. 39 ways to hate yourself, but only one way not to. a dozen ways to fall in love, but not any way not to fall in love with you.

the slow songs never laugh, even though they ought to. and the fast songs always make it easier to listen when you don't want to hear them.

smoke and self-pity make a sour drink. but it's quite potent. so intoxicating. solitude and depression create an ample bar. choose your habits carefully. they will last.

you and i we make quite an interesting drug. so addictive. euphoric like a lucid dream. penetrating like love. you and me is a potion that casts a powerful spell. come again. come make me forget myself. come again. i want to make love to you if we can.

10-09-03 9:25pm thursday brick NJ

ask me.

i'm hearing music where there is none. crossing bridges that have no suspension.

make your tire tracks in my sand. stick shift your way to greener pastures. this dirt will remember. this dirt will retain the imprints of your path.

it's not so much to ask. not that much to want. but it's a lot to be had.

it's not that i can't imagine. all too easy it would be. it's not love that makes us do those things. it's her evil twin. it's not love that tells us we can. it's weakness.

in every life there is a space that no one can touch. not even the owner of. some place where damage never happens. a place where life has no lessons. in every life there is this place. because to love is to need such. because tears won't always readily fall. and hearts are not always willing to bleed.

if you know me. or if you even think that you ever could. if you believe in the love i have admitted, you shouldn't hesitate, but you might need to question. because i have. more than once.

what i wrote. what i still haven't submitted for your approval. as if that's what i seek. as if i've ever sought anything. what i wrote. what i'm now trying to avoid. as the night digs further in it all seems so useless. what have we to give. what can we claim that hasn't already been taken.

when i break just know that it's because i'm foolish. not your fault. when i attempt to remain friends i hope that you'll oblidge. i know not what i sought because i never was looking. i know not what i wanted because i never had an intent. i only know that i saw you and thought there is someone i could want.