Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 15, 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.
Wednesday 3-15-06 9:31 PM
three days ago i was so much older. now i'm a child again. toy soldier. flaky edges still left over from the mold.
no pupils. just empty eyes to see with. or try to when the light is low and my plastic machine gun is all out of pretend ammunition.
poured ears listen to the cellophane silence. as it crinkles and hisses against the pull of my make-believe breath. it's real to me. it all is. because this is as real as i can be.
wait for the hand. the shadow of god's descent. wait for the movement as my feet grow out of their plastic stand. pick me up. knock me down. as long as something changes.
hands sewn to my sides. made of my uniform. noting under those clothes. solid, yet hollow as anything's ever been. pale regurgitation of my original mold.
the wax is beginning to boil again.
it's nearly time to pour another soldier.
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)
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Old Poems
we have to go back!
God Jesus Satan
she sees God. He doesn't see her.
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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.