Dark Poetry Prose Poetry Bovember 19, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

Saturday November 19, 2005 11:23pm

tinted darkness in shades of them. hooded owls in their distant treetops. wide eyes eclipsing the fever of their pitch. seeing so much. eager wings assume feathers might still be enough.

not the hour your confined to. nor the choke of your thoughts. just the cradle. perpetually as it rocks you. tiny demons with large claws.

nothing gained, still so much lost. pages drenched in hidden inks. don't you see. can't you read what they've said.

turning yesterdays blue with holding their breath. as if they could breathe this far below the surface. as if they should ever breathe again.

choking perceptions in their static. it wonders as it sees itself becoming, whether it could actually be what it is.

truth has a long gestation period and a bloody birth. but once it's broken those walls there's no denying how fragile it is.

hold its head. smell its skin. as new as anything could hope to be. as old as we all are.