Dark Poetry Prose Poetry April 12, 2006 Dark Poetic Prose

4-12-06 wednesday 10:28pm

Muddy shoulders. Choking on ego. Sleeping by the phone. Soft beards in two-tone.

Pain. Real live pain. A new drug. Brand new purple and blue bandages for all these old wounds.

Washed in stone. Every inch. No purple hair or ripped denims. Just dirty sneakers with fraying laces.

That's how she walks. And all she runs with. And when she crawls she wears nothing.

One eye is enough she would say.Too much maybe. It's so much easier to see when I don't look. There's no better friend than darkness. No greater lover than pain.

I've turned over so many stones searching for all the things that are supposed to be hidden there. But under every one is only darkness.

Nothing more.

I could have built a mountain by now. But instead all I have are footprints. My shadow following me as I go nowhere.