Dark Poetry Prose Poetry October 24, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

10-24-05 6:30pm monday

the surface clouds of dewy eyes and purple lips. petit four voices speak quietly on behlaf of carbon dated hearts. memory drips from that leaky faucet in my life. pooling there in the basin at the bottom of my chest.

time like tiny hammers strikes the chords within. music in my head makes my thoughts dance again. with ugly shadows and beautiful rays. with truth and lies and all their infinite grades.

it can't be aloud. so instead it listens. for the hum of sputtering engines that eventually will turn over and take us home again.

11:38pm monday 10-24-05

isn't it time yet to turn over that leaf? accept the color it has become and bury the dead. shouldn't it be easier to let them go now that we have so much of what they were under our skin. is it an open wound or just one we won't let close?

is it the night that makes this darkness so immense or just how well i remember the feel of sunlight on my skin.

no need to really know, just learn. just learn to live with it.

because all this nothing i fill your life with takes up so much more space than all those somethings i once had. all this nothing expands so abrupt. until there's no space left for anything but.

don't tell me you're there, when so clearly you're not.