Dark Poetry Prose Poetry October 23, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

10-23-03 9pm thursday brick NJ

it's said that sadness makes the verses more beautiful. it's known that sorrow is the lifeblood of the poet. but what is not such common knowledge yet is too much steals it away again.

just as a smile. a moment of happiness erases the language of the soul. too much sadness does the same. witness this. here now. bottom feeding tears brought out. empty, selfish useless pain.

it's said that there are lives who are meant to own happiness and those that are only meant to borrow from it. that some get their wealth by heart and others only by riches. that empty hearts will only obliterate whatever love you can put into them. damned to always want what is destroyed by their touch.

too sad to write as it's often been called. by some. by those few who've witnessed the depths of my depression and have crawled back up out of it. they've told me how the sadder the more beautiful. and even before they had i knew it true.

there will always be poets like me who must be sad, even if against their will sometimes. if not, who then would i be. and there are those drawn to it. for their own reasons. enchanted with the notion of rescue. or perhaps just caught up in the lilting verses.

i might be given to wax melodramatic and say again how this will be the last. but i don't know. i never have. the things i do know i could do without. and all the loves i have known seem only just life's methods to the remind me who i am. that happiness is not for all to keep. let me touch it just enough to want it. let me hold it just long enough to remember it when it's gone. write these pages and carry on. though i'd rather not. write these words as if anyone is reading. as if somewhere in their sadness lies a piece of something i need.

that somewhere in you lies a piece of me. and vice versa. that somewhere in our sin a miracle happened.

but it's gone now. like all things eventually come to be. go on without. mock this pain until it stops mocking me.

somewhere in you is what i need. somewhere in me is who we could've been. but that all seems laughable now. that all seems just a parody of how.

and knowing alone is where i began. where i should be. knowing alone is where i found you and where i should leave.

10-23-03 thursday 9:34pm brick NJ

not without a reason to. just not one good enough. parcel these moments like packages and ship them off to where they are destined.

blink slow and pretend that there are no thoughts in your head. blink slowly and listen to the voice in your head.

no story would be complete without a victim. without a hero. and some sort of debaucle. no drama would be true without a tragic mistake. and a lot of bloodshed.

it's too dark to see. too cold to listen. too sad to put to pen or pages. i can't date it. i can't mark it. staring at the screen it's all so apparent. every way that the sun did set. every dawn that warned of it.

and how friendship quickly turns on zealous hearts. and how love was never something unselfish, but rather the opposite.

i think that it had to be. for you. for me. that it was an argument greater than we could arraign.

regret asks do i. i don't have an answer yet. what i felt. what i hadn't til then. how could i ever forsake it.

was it worth it? are you still so sure? when you must kiss and make up again what visions will be in your thoughts?

it won't have to be said. i won't mention. i'll just go back to my old world and continue with these pages. it's not over because it never began. like everything i've ever loved. not taken. just never had.

10-23-03 thursday 10:40pm brick NJ

all this money don't buy me nothing. it just sits there collecting dust in the back of my head. it just asks me what i'm after as i continue to gather. and i odn't know. i can't answer her. cause there is no reason. that's just it. there never has been.

all this money can't change me. can't make me different from who i am. it collects quickly like dust in attics. becuase i've no use for it. cause i keep expecting something it can't give.

you don't know. you never should have to. you don't see. i hope that you never do.

all this life can't buy me living. only you did, but that was stolen. all these breaths can't fill my lungs with life again. only you did, but that was not mine to have.

all these friends can never make a true friend of me. broken harlot lost in herself. grieving poet too lost in rhyming to know.

all this money saddnes me. like everything does. making it ever more apparent how much i don't have. how easy it is to have some things. how difficult it is to keeep other ones.

all this life can't justify who i've been. all these feelings mean little when it comes to ask you why. like bleeding just to see if you're still alive. it's a paragraph that has no end. it constantly questions. it has no reasons. only questions. it knows no love. only how it hasn't been.

and if i should betray. if i already have. if darkness run long in the scope of your heart. i don't know what to do except brood here in this silence. pretend that friends have kept what they haven't. never again. that much you can be sure. no longer a need to defend. not just recscue mission. no longer a place to plant these landmines. now just tread lightly and forget.