Dark Poetry Prose Poetry February 6, 2006 Dark Poetic Prose

monday 9:49pm 2-06-06

overture in parts. standing breast to gavel. this orphan skin. it reminds. as so many things do. of the glittering and toxic union that is happiness.

no fear in your budapest grin. just the density of life as it happens us. perpetual and careless.

unbutton your mind. air it out.

sour apple eyes. their sweet juice all extracted. there may be choices. but there are no alternatives.

there may be cold wind on your lips, but there are only snowflakes in your stare. as each thought proliferates and new patterns fall.

i should've swept up the pieces. gathered them in a pile. but it was easier i guess. just to open the door. let the breeze steal what it did.

and tell myself it was nothing more than the frailty of skin. just our masks getting away from us for a while.

monday 11:04pm 02-06-06

such caustic unions we are. machete words on naked throats. my prison is my memory. chronic moments. wanting more. a why. or a how. even just an if.

baited hands tempting reason. peel the apple. bite the skin.

malignant hours terminal with. everything lost. everything found. i still listen. every night. but there are no more sounds.

no injured ghosts and their translucent blood. no artificial hearts pumping it.

just now as it appeals to faltering fingers. frozen grips. clutching words that never listen. or try to hear.

so much to say still, but no reason.

it whispers. like a soft wind against your naked arm. one hair at a time transmitting touch. shattered breaths swallowing the shards of their surrender.

we stay. we must. copulating with the lies that will love us.

every demon looks like an angel if you paint its wings your favorite color.