Dark Poetry Prose Poetry October 9, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

5:26pm saturday 10-09-04

diaphanous hearts. sweet violins in your blood. quietly weeping the song of.

i just need a new word sometimes.
something i haven't said.
anything to change the resonance.

counting syllables like a clock ticking in my head.
sipping solitude like coffee black.
pure and fresh and strong as.

it keeps me awake much longer than i had planned.

quotidian rhymes.

i just need a new word once in a while.
one i wouldn't normally use.
something not myself sometimes.

diaphanous like a cheerleader's smile.

the deeper i dig the closer i come to the surface again.

the more i work the words the quicker the clay dries.

nothing needs to change. nothing is.

the beginning and the end always meet at the center. life is the circumference. we are the radii.

reaching out from the middle for those edges. the distance is always half yours. half mine.

8:22pm 10-09-04 saturday

unopened sighs.
wrapped up tight
with broken hearts inside.

put it there.
with a fistful grin
and change the lock
on your decision.

put it there.
put it in.
we always do.
lives that dance
like pollen on the wind.

my heart is
an open bar.

drink up.
get as high as you can.
it's free for you,
i'll fill you with
as i am consumed.

my heart is
an open bar
at your best friend's wedding.

glasses and bottles.
constantly filling up and
being emptied.

drink up.
it won't cost you a thing.

10-09-04 saturday 10:17pm

the ghost outside my window. a light that danced invisible. the night's aura coloring in my outlines. not the absense of light. nor the presense of darkness. but the harmony they find in eager eyes.

i've slept with myself. slept with them. tunneling like ants urgent to be productive.

missionaries of the heart. soldiers of the mind. selling salvation to the lonely. and bringing death those resigned.

i was a blank notebook. an empty pen. i never wanted there to be words there. i never wanted there be a story written.

but the cover lay open. and they saw the lines. followed them. spilled their lives upon like rivers and forced me to swim.

i just wanted to stay in the margin. keep out of sight. not be read. not be reminded.

i just couldn't keep the cover closed, though i tried. all those pages naked they longed to be covered in.

i didn't have the ink. didn't care for the lines. but they would follow me. draw them in until finally i'd give in.

it's easy to. you know it is. inhale like you want it. when you really only need this. it's physical. not about choices.

it's clouds. clouds with too much rain in them. it's the sky. how it goes on forever. further than we can hope to see. farther than here on the ground we can believe.

saturday 10-09-04 10:29pm

a bottle's grin. lipstick friends. shine your lips. undress your fears. a ladder in your memory. a basement unfinished. hollow. uninsulated walls.

it's only what you wear. nothing more. your words. your actions. they are your clothes. wear them well. or else don't wear them at all.

it's who you know. who knows you. polaroid galleries. two dimensional exhibits of a life in progress. flat, fuzzy evidence of just how stark.

wear the sorrow like a diamond necklace around your heart. it's worth a fortune. not to keep it. but to let it go.

to have it stolen by. some thief of a lover. you want someone to take it all away, but not to leave you with nothing.

there's tomorrow. and the next day. until eventually you forget that they're changing. and you turn back then to look at the road you've travelled. try to find the tire marks. any kind of proof that you've been driving. but it's not there. there's just the engine quietly idling.