Dark Poetry Prose Poetry October 17, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

October 17, 2003 Friday 3:40pm Brick NJ

it's another day. always seems to be. more mail. more songs. less reasons to read. less reasons to sing.

it's another page. always building the web. spiders at our keyboards preying on the hapless moments.

it's another night. another beer. there's always more. there has to be.

it's another verse. always is. poets with our abundance of sobering metaphors and our scarcity of reasons.

October 17, 2003 Friday 3:53pm Brick NJ

beginning again as i am prone to do. as all life does when the clutter starts to build up.

not forgetting. not leaving behind. only archiving for safe keeping. only organizing.

beginning again as each day does insist. every sunrise a reflection of yesterday with a blank spot in it.

not forgetting. not saying goodbye. only living and writing without a reason why.

October 17, 2003 Friday 7:32pm Brick NJ

old songs in acoustic sound new again. like love. like admitting it. not to them, but rather yourself. like talking with a bottle on your lips. every truth echoes back to you that much uglier than when you kept it.

acoustic are so many moments in life. needles skating across grooves in hearts. life amplifying the sadness.

overwhelmed suddenly. like unpausing with the volume too loud. or out in the ocean when thunderclouds rush in. overtaken by this feeling of sadness and chagrin, but i don't know why.

acoustic like love is. between every chord you can hear their fingers moving over the strings. acoustic and powerless. like an open heart is. too sad to cry. too alone to confess.

10-17-03 friday 9pm brick NJ

it's not the lack of want or need. it's just that it's almost too much to keep. you don't believe me when i say it, but when you've been me, then you'll have the right to judge. until then believe me when i say that it isn't any easier for me than it is for anyone.

it's not seeking a reason. not looking to love. it's just that it tends to hunt. even moving targets sometimes are struck. even ghosts can sometimes feel touch.

of all the ways i've found to die. and all the means i've used to brood. each new one holds its purpose. but it's different when it comes to you.

why? because you don't make me miserable. you leave that task up to me. because every verse asks that question whose answer it already knows. because love isn't a decision. but what to do with it most certainly is.

10-17-03 friday 10:15pm brick NJ

you have no idea how much it means. that stupid rock. those moments between.

you don't know how much i can love. how much it takes before i. because it doesn't happen. it always goes on.

what the fuck. why me of all the people that there are. why change when it's so fucking hard. wouldn't it be better to stay just where you are.

i just want to be someone you trust. not the reason that you can't. i didn't really want this. it just happened and wasn't any ways to resist.

it's not that i didn't. it just that. it's not as if i know why we should. it's just that i know why we shouldn't. like everything in life it defies all the meaning we can give it. like all the love there has ever been in this life it tells me that i shouldn't.

friends we may yet be. much as we meant to orginally. i hope so. cuz i need you. like a leaf needs a branch to flee.

love your children as you should. love your wife if you still could. that's what i want most of all. to watch you live the dream. to never have to see you fall.