Dark Poetry Prose Poetry February 24, 2006 Dark Poetic Prose

02-24-06 friday 6:33 PM

i will wait. because i am good at waiting. like any grain of sand is. or cloud. or raindrop. waiting is how we know when to happen. if we should. if we did.

so i will wait. as i have always been. beacuse waiting makes me want. and wanting is the only way i know how to live.

like any orphan. or any stray would.

we wait. because the waiting is the only thing we can do.

02-24-06 friday 11:28 PM

it churns between the sounds of stillness. a velvet sword gripped by a leaden glove. it's life standing on its toes again. trying to see over the crowd that's gathered. see the current spectacle before it too passes.

i try to remember the smell, but nothing seems true anymore. just scratchy whispers that scrape the fresh skin off of those old scars.

i take the first. and the last. leaving behind everything between. because the beginning is what we love. and the end is how we know we did. everything else is just filler. time misappropriated for lives we cannot fulfill.

i try to redraw the image in my mind. the motion. as awkward as it was fluid. flying on clipped wings. but all i see are silhouettes. the outlines. all the edges. all the shades of color stolen. the motion. a sinking boat limping toward land.

the motion.

sinking.

together.