Dark Poetry Prose Poetry January 21, 2006 Dark Poetic Prose
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Dark Art
your eyes slit these wrists and kill me so much better
than i ever did
knowing life is a scab, a crusty, bloody seal of a wound. and wanting so much to pick at.
Sad Poems
by the alcoholic poet.
saturday 1-21-06 10:18pm
her spine cracked as he pressed her open. releasing the pages, but not their words. all people are books. diaries full of shame and anticipation.
every touch. given or received. is an attempt to be heard. seen. known.
the pleasure in feeling someone. or being felt by them lies in the idea that some of that ink you wear will rub off on them. and when they look at it you'll not be alone. no matter where either of you are.
the seduction is life. so full of it we are. must pierce the skin to release all that pressure boiling within.
we're all words. written in both ink and in pencil. held hostage by the silence. but when we touch it's as though we've spoken at last.
and that voice is their's.
Poetry
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Art/Sad Art 1
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the art of this
site neatly compiled into two pages.
Thinking
(Wanted To Say)
Feeling
(Just Words)
Always (You)
404 (error page)
Four Oh For
(human stain)
Such Unusual Ideas Caught In Dead Eyes
(Suicide)
Who? (To Whom)
What (I Want)
Why? Part 1
Why? Part 2
Why Not?(for scooter)
When?(for mcdoofus)
How?(for myself)
Extras
Old Poems
we have to go back!
God Jesus Satan
she sees God. He doesn't see her.
Savatoons Web Design
Deep Thoughts for the Day
Awesome Costumes for Halloween
sometimes
i think it would be nice to be fragile. then maybe once in a while someone would
be gentle
i feel so lost, especially when the sun shines, that
it accentuates how dark, how dark is my life.