Dark Poetry Prose Poetry November 28, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

11-28-03 friday 4:24pm brick NJ

starboard eyes steer these lives away from. stowaway hearts steal their miles aboard someone else's love. starboard eyes are always there to see the sun rise, but they never see it setting behind them. but it does. it still does, even if you won't look in that direction.

stowaway hearts sail on stolen waves. stowaway hearts have no destination. only the urge to escape. starboard as we go into the sun stealing miles and miles of love. we'll see a million rise, but we'll never see them set. but they will. again and again until these stowaway hearts find some place permanent.

11-28-03 friday 10:13 pm brick NJ

freecell games. not unlike the ones we tend to play. all are winnable. it's only a matter of if you can. 23 in row and then back to zero again. addictions form in so many ways. love festers like an infecton in our most recent wounds. you can let the infection comsume you or you can ingest enough alcohol that it dies in you.

old songs. you'd thought that you'd outgrown. strange how they seem new again. all the meanings the once begged pray at your altar again. and i wonder is life linear or circular. does it have any discernable pattern.

it would be easy to mourn again. to fall into those depths. where sorrow strokes poet hearts like masturbating on sadness. where pleasure couples with sorrow and they breed their strange children of verse and melancholy rhyme. my offspriing hates me. and i hate them. my children aren't the sort you can watch and love them more as each day they grow. my children feed on me. they crave my bleeding to feed on. my purpose isn't clear. it isn't real at all. not that i think anyone's is. just what they contrive of the hours they spend. just how they plug the hole in themselves with all too primitive endeavors. but evenso. even in my skeptisism, i know they are better off than i am. ignorant or not. selfish to a fault. it doesn't really sem to matter if. if it fill those voids. who among us can question. if it fills the void that lives are fraught with. then they must know bettter. wrong or right hardly seems an issue when there's so much else that hearts must harbor. any way that you can, i can only sit back and wonder. try not to envy. any way that can make it worthwhile. i can only stare from the outside and wonder. wish i could. find my way insdie.

freecell spaces in hearts waiting to be used. to shuffle the cards in such a way that the possible win willl come agian. but as long as i can play. as many wins as i can collect successively. there's always a limit. always a loss about to be. there's no infinite play. there's no endless streak. just shuffling suits and color until they find that means to make you lose again. for as long as the wins can go on. for as far as i can go. still i know, eventually i'll run out of moves. twnety. perhaps a few more. but freecells' are a lie. cuz nothing is really free. temporary spaces to place the cards that block your aces. i could win. i could conquer all ten thousand instances, but the next time that i go back to try again, they're sure to defeat me again.