Dark Poetry Prose Poetry April 9, 2006 Dark Poetic Prose

sunday 04-09-06 12:08am

You know, I did try to call. A time or two, but no one answered.

I'm not really there.

I did try to be like everyone said I should, so full of myself. Just no one responded. Except to tell me that I wasn't there.

It's a little hard when yourself is all you've ever been. I try to be different sometimes, but it's no use.

There's only one choice. Submit to the demons or become them. There's only the sleep I'm missing because I can't decide if I ever loved them.

Or if it would matter anyway.

Soft footsteps on tired stairs make their concessions. It's not how high we rise. It's not what we seek, but what we are sought by.

Leaning into the clock. Scraping against the threat. That I could overcome. Simply ignore what it wants from me.

He didn't try to be, therefore he never was. We would waste hours debating what we could've been. But the fact is, we weren't anything but ourselves.

Ribbons trying to be bows. No knots to rely on.

If I could change myelf to suit anyone. I wouldn't change at all. I'd remian the one they almost wanted.

The denim in their silk. So plebian. The raw in their ore. So sure of itself.

Dig me up.

Don't want to be found.

There is no everything in anyone. But sometimes it still looks like that.

But I will settle for being discovered.