Dark Poetry Prose Poetry October 21, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

11:55pm 10-21-05 friday

the yellow bird in the red room wanders. her feathers changing hues.

the river in the chest washes with the stones thrown. beaten against tiny razors. no blood. just empty veins that heave dry retches.

the voice lies and pretends hurt is not the cornerstone. happiness does not exist. the other voice pulls it out and the arch tumbles in.

the heart speaks, but the tongue won't obey. mouths open and there is poison in every kiss.

soft memories harden into regret. packages opened. presents given. taken back.

alive once. briefly. then dead again.

the yellow bird beats its wings against the red walls. but they don't move. there's only the song of flailing limbs. and a feeling of numbness as the colors change again.