Dark Poetry Prose Poetry October 11, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

10-11-04 9:24pm monday

there's nothing left to say. snowflakes on the horizon. dead flowers on open graves.

there's no tomorrow. no yesterday. just black. black behind my eyes and infront of them.

there are no people. only apparitions. spectres in my mind haunting empty beds.

there's nothing left to say. no lines left to color in. only used up crayons without their labels. whose colors i can't remember which.

there's no one here. or there. or any place.

this life is a ghost town. this heart is an unmarked grave.

10-11-04 9:40pm monday

crows in the night. black feathers against. the wind like a song lilting in my head. the moon above. the stars beside. an ocean of wishes yet to be sent.

if there's nothing else to do, i'll just do this. alone like a dream forgotten. hollow as a promise unkept.

if there's nothing to do. and there isn't. i'll just remember when. a tv without reception. a song that doesn't sing.

a highway the leads to nowhere, but never ends. that's what life is.

dead and bloated. a pile of corpses and no one to bury them.

forget me. i already have. i wouldn't want to know me either if i was given that chance.

forget me. like you would any other doormat.

10:10pm 10-11-04 monday

made of. not sure just what. a mountain in my throat. oceans in my bones. made of words mostly. an image or two. made of flesh and blood if you look closely. press a finger to and feel the give. i am soft. my heart is pleated. full of folds. they hold the dirt, the dust and the shadows. they catch the sun as it sneaks through eyes that are windows. they catch the sun and turn it into the colors that you see.

memory slick like rivers frozen. searching for a blade to balance myself upon them.

tomorrow always seems a lifetime away as it does approach. now so tight around my throat.

and yesterday for whatever reason, always seems so very close. just a breath away like that tickle in your nose right before the dam explodes. and all that well-contained sorrow becomes a tidal wave.

i don't know what i'm made of. except flesh and blood. and thoughts that weaze like punctured lungs. i don't know what keeps all those peices together. nor what causes them to come undone.

there's only this antidote in my hands whose cure never lasts. and this disease in my head whose infection continues to spread. there's only this antidote that isn't working anymore. and this poison multiplying in my head.

what once was bright is dark again. you went out like a bulb that tired. you disappeared like i wish i could.

i never knew how alone i was until i was left with only the memory of us.

10:36pm 10-11-04 monday

opening. easing flower petals. kissing the sun. opening. then open. split in half. divided.

i see tomorrow through dark sunglasses. ready for the worst it has.

i see the future like a blind man. there's nothing there. that i want. that i am meant to have.

open. frail shells reveal. thick yellow yolks and thin whites congealed.

i see people as i do myself. vain reflections of lives with narrow scopes.

i see people as i do everything. futures contrived. and hearts trying to fly with clipped wings.

opening. clouds unveiling the moon. to usher in another night like some dark play without a dialogue. without a any stage on which to move.

i see love like i do all things. poorly constructed stairway up to a heaven that doesn't exist. cross upon which we sacrifice these hearts for a salvation that has no gods to give it.