Dark Poetry Prose Poetry Bovember 2, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

Wednesday November 02, 2005 12:16AM

these soft wings with feathers so expanded. how loud they beat against this silence. it's almost as if i can hear again something besides this isolation.

these lies we mix with the truth to convince ourselves. they're so elaborate. as though it almost matters how it feels to be forgotten.

just images of tomorrow clutched in yesterday's fist. always dying. dying to live.

it's not where you were. or where you are. it's when. like a curtain across this window. i can't see anything except. but i know it's out there.

it's not how alive i felt. corduroy hearts chaffing. it's not anything we were.

it's the chance we never had.

Wednesday November 02, 2005 10:37PM

it isn't enough anymore.

this tunnel leads nowhere. fractured tracks begging hungry engines. please listen.

as if every night could begin again on a new page. under a different cover. but it's the same dry pen hovering over fading words. broken sentences.

i can read the words on their faces. in their voices. but i still don't understand. the earth churning around the sun to give us light then darkness and light again. in and endless procession. as if we could ever see it. or if we did we'd know we had.

they fall away like flaking skin. dandruff of the heart. white speckles on my shoulder telling of all my moments of weakness.

because the truth is some part of me always wanted to live. like they do. in a world full of more than just habits. i wanted to once. and for a time i did.

but it wouldn't last.