Dark Poetry Prose Poetry October 26, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

10-26-03 sunday 8am brick NJ

waiting on tomorrow means always waiting.
and all the loves you can only borrow
have you giving, never gaining.

not trying to find myself -
trying to lose her.
not looking over the edge -
i'm hanging from it.

i'm not lost in this sadness,
i know it too well.
every corner, every nitch;
how could i not?
spent my whole life in it.

i never have to leave,
never really can go
since i've never been there,
always am alone.

10-26-03 sunday 1:25pm brick NJ

what exactly is your definition of 'doing the right thing' ? - not getting caught?

it's been bugging me since i read that. among other things. didn't want to say it cuz seemed silly coming from me. like i wasn't in any position to say that. and it had no justifiable end for its means.

but after being fucked in the pine barrens, i feel like i deserve to say fuck you back.

i mean, i've had sex on several ocassions. mostly very pleasant. ocassionally spectacular. but i had never been fucked before that night. really fucked. and it's a horrible feeling.

10-26-03 sunday 5:40pm brick NJ

went for a walk this morning. took a couple pictures. got some juice. then rode the swing a while. fuel songs screaming in my ears.

the thing about swinging is if you do it right you can feel just like you're flying. with the music. ears closed to the world outside. lean back far as you can go. close your eyes and soar.

i used to go to the swings at night to listen to sad tonic songs like "mean to me" and try to hate mcdoofus. try to fly away from myself. but after a while of trying that and not being able to, i just learned to love him different.

i didn't go back to the swing again for about a year. then just recently i'm finding myself with the urge again. this time and one not so long ago before it. and island heights too. that was another method of escaping. cocooning i guess. i know what i'm doing this time. it's a lot easier having not left this place that long ago. well, easier to navigate anyway. harder though, to have to feel this way so soon again.

course that fact that i returned to it so soon after having left makes me question.

i guess the trouble is i can give myself the illusion of flying, but that's exactly what it is. just an illusion. i've really always been falling.

10-26-03 sunday 7:24pm brick NJ

sweet pain filters through the thin blanket of happiness we'd wrapped around our sins. while the inability to trust throws its stones. creates ripples cascading through lake of our relationship.

and it's true that i was lonely when we met. but i was not trying to cure it. not with this new disease. not by any method.

in time i'll find out if i can. if friendship is something we can really share.

paint me humbled again. all caught up in life's grey areas and suddenly realizing it all is. that black and white do not exist.

you didn't break me open. the shell is still intact. but it has its share of cracks. i almost considered opening myself up and offering you the meat, but you spared me when you made it al feel like so much less than i'd been led to believe.

that's what i get for following you onto to a path i could never navigate without your guidance. that's just how people get used. taking rides to places they can't get back from on their own.

i think that i was right when i first meant to keep it innocent. only trouble is that no one is. so how do we do that?

i can't lose this feeling. that dark hole you planted in me we fucked. feels like you took the void in yourself an inseminated me with it.

and i don't hate. and i can forgive. i just can't trust. i never did. and even if i wanted to make that effort it doesn't feel like i'm the one responsible for that task. even if i would. even if i should. i don't know that i could.

10-26-03 sunday 8:28pm brick NJ

if the end won't come anytime soon it's hard to fathom. even harder to grieve those sorts of losses you can hardly feel. cuz i feel just like a thief. and if it's been taken back from me isn't that just justice being exacted.

if i can't answer sometimes when. cuz all the feelings are more than i can attend. if i can't call because there's potential for mishaps. what exactly do we have? where does this contrived affection make its residence?

if you want to play with love it will surely play you back. and it's so much older and wiser than any wisdom hearts can lend. try to carve out a notch in time. freeze a moment where everything was so right. i think harder than that physics theory is just finding that moment worth suspending yourself in.

it may never happen. or even if you think it has. at any moment it can turn around and tell you that it wasn't genuine. sometimes there's no need for words. it's just a feeling you get and can't get out of your head.

if all my life comes down to this. pieces sacrficed for no true ends. if all my life rambles on through these heavy sentences. how then am i ever to fly. gravity such the enemy that it's been. the only way is to turn on it. use the power it has used against me. jump and let it take me on that flight. even if it's only just once. at least i'll have ridden wind. even though i can't survive. it doesn't seem to matter since that was never my design.

10-26-03 sunday 8:51pm brick NJ

if i keep writing about the life i've barely been living what am i trying to accomplish? if i keep latching onto loves that have no chance of giving it what exactly is wrong with me. what am i lacking inside that takes these moments and cheats them of life.

looking back. it's like remembering your own suicide. if i'd ever succeeded. i imagine this would be how it feels to witness the aftermath. an empty soul floating free in space. bored to death with the eternity it has inadvertently embraced.

if i keep befriending all the lovers who have taken my heart and shredded it. is that redemption. is that a means to mend. or just the cycle itself constantly repeating.

if i should keep to myself. the words my voice lacks. the ones that manifest here on this hidden stage. am i acting the role or am i directing the tragic play. am i another juliet or the dagger in her chest.

filling empty heads takes so much more than tranquilizers and molson chasers. filling hearts is an endless process of taking out and supposedly putting back. i'm still waiting on the receiving part.

i just can't help giving when. when the emotions assemble their army and flank my reason. i just always submit when love seduces me. she's not a whore. she's a muse too cunning. and all she's tried to teach me. the lessons get lost again as soon as a question is written. all those old theorums become useless. and i'm too tired to figure new methods. i'm too lonely some nights to even care if they make any sense.

all i ever really wanted was someone to believe in. not to have to be here always doubting their intentions. all i ever really wanted was a friend. but friends don't seem to come without their own reasons. and if the world was a kind place. or if life were ever easy, there'd be no poetry. it's the only reason i have left. so i ought to hang on to it long as it will allow me.