Dark Poetry Prose Poetry December 24, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

9:31pm friday 12-24-04

change me. heart turning colors. thoughts shedding like leaves from a branch.

cold. outside. in.

white noise in your head like snow falling.

the life inside your head like a blizzard.

shivering. digging. under. out. and over.

through.

digging. your tunnel out. collapsing in on you.

12-24-04 9:44pm friday

the night picks at your strings. plays a song on you.

the wind moves like a bow across. friction creates music from your heart.

so alive as you touch the words out. your silent orchestra. the letters dance. the language licks at your thighs as you open them to let it come inside.

you feel through. feel with.

the puppets that you see have no more strings than you. the stage you watch them on extends out into the audience.

sad marionettes are they. as you see it. so they see a sad marionette is you.

all strings attached. everywhere. and tangled up. forced too close.

tangles push us close as on those strings we dance.

still they come undone much too soon. what else is a puppet to want other than to be moved.

12-24-04 10:35pm friday

from dust to stone. midnight dresses casual for the reunion of the souls.

maybe it should matter, but it don't.

your calendar pleads ignorance as the slate is wiped clean again.

from then to now. just a short few steps. couple of stairs and there you are on the next level.

fast as you fall it always catches. gravity only a henchmen in the this new world where pain has no memory. and every dream you wish you'd dreamt has some place peaceful to die. somewhere beautiful to go after the war has ended.

form where you come to where you go. a blink and then you wake up where you are. drowning in the folds of yourself. trying to remember who you were before you were this. trying to forget why it ever mattered to begin with. or if it ever did.

from who you were to who you thought could reach. particles of bridges that would coagulate under your feet. as you stepped so brave in needness lost. yourself the genie. your heart the lamp.

rubbed against and wished lost.

everything you meant for good turned against itself. every good intention distorted.

there is no wish left to want. is no magic left on tap. so drink from that bottle and hope it can. rub up against it like a cat. put your scent on. that they'kk remember you after they've broken the glass.

that everything you tried to be. as vain as it's become. meant something then. even if now it means nothing.

that love is smooth like a snake's skin. and is shed in the same fashion.

that the outside is not what they see. what they touch. like liquid. they move through it. are surround by. and covered in.