Dark Poetry Prose Poetry December 10, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

12-10-03 wednesday 9:48pm brick NJ

it's the last thing i can talk about. the first thing i think of. cherished and hated. divined and debated like sunday school metaphors.

to write. to breathe. to stall my seek and just be. empty inside. too empty to describe.

days spawn weeks. and weeks give months. nothing is different, but i feel different. emptier yet.

it's the last thing i'd ever say, but the first thing in my thoughts. leave it lay there like a blood stain. it's set. throw away the fabric or wear it as is. wear these stains proud. what else do you have. wear these blood stains across your chest. you always have. why should now be any different.

why. i don't know. when. that's already been. who. well, you know who you are. and i know them. at least, i thought that i did.

and now. this is it. how you coddle it like a child. how you stuff it full of every little feeling that you can't admit. and then. whatever it was still lingers. lingers like the shadow of a fire. dancing soft and sporadic against the backdrop of your most intimate of moments. and tomorrrow. that isn't to be. not ever. how we worship her. a god unreal. how we take the sorrow now has and wish it off into the never. pretend sometimes that we can be cured. but we are not infected. we are the disease. only to be cured when we are no more.

12-10-03 1:30pm Brick NJ wednesday

where were you when the dreams became contagious. where was i, but trying desperately not to want things that cannot be.

i hold my breath as if to feign that i am dead. cuz that's all i've ever wanted.

where are we now that immunity pretends it has a foothold. words speak, but they don't really know.

stars on the top of the tree. angels in midnight. we lost the bet. knew we would, but hell for the risk. it's so much better to lose like this. it's sad, but it's all that some of us have.

can't rememer now why i did. why i didn't. like rainbows arcing over lives. their colors thrive on rain. they only appear after the storm subsides. and if they do. if they can. frail like a brief winter smile. catch the snowflake before the concrete does. touch upon happiness with thick gloves. and think that it can last as you love it, but know that it can't. and believe that it is real as, but know that it wasn't.