Dark Poetry Prose Poetry Bovember 1, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

Tuesday, November 01, 2005 12:09 AM

your broken eyes. your limp heart. shall i wait for them to get closer to the entranceway asusming they can't travel very far.

your memory pertaining to what i know not. love is so cyclical. friendship not so different.

are we not alone. then. now. always. regardless of who we draw near to us. merely bets we bluffed on empty hands. hoping our faces wouldn't give us away.

but once we fooled them, we knew, they'd never be fooled again.

so now what lies do we insist. do we fold every hand or just lie again and don a new mask.

won't it ever end. this brash parade of lives stuffing dead flowers onto floats. advertising their loneliness in dried out rainbows. as they slowly follow in the path of all those before them.

it tastes just like pain every time i look out there and see the world. all full of people who want. the more we want to get better the worse we make ourselves.

i'm not different. just tired of being. being like this. elevators stalled inbetween floors. ever that open, but never close.

all those gods they worship ignoring them. no one's listening except time as it exacts its revenge.

no one wants the truth. all they want is an excuse to live.