Dark Poetry Prose Poetry Year 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

hopeless as the last leaf in autumn when all the rest have already fallen

Poetry 2006
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006

Poetry 2005
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005

Poetry 2004
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004

Poetry 2003
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003

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.

SEX
for adults only
411 SexToys
Adult Toys Sexdongs
Sex-Toys-Superstore
Exotic Lingerie

SAD POETRY 2004

January 2004
April 2004
July 2004
October 2004

February 2004
May 2004
August 2004
November 2004

March 2004
June 2004
September 2004
December 2004

Back in the day, you know, the 80's, when I was a kid/teen the year 2004 seemed millennia away. I couldn't imagine it even being 2000, let alone 2004.

Every new year I think about about two things:

1. the George Orwell novel 1984
2. the Jetsons

The Orwell novel because when he wrote it 1984 was the future and now it's the past. And getting a little too accurate imho.

The Jetsons because they promised us flying cars and we still don't have any.

I want the flying cars I was promised.

excerpts from 2004 dark/sad writing

open under the breast of night. hungry and sucking on her ebony tits.
january 9, 2004

don't feed me full of happiness and then force me to throw it up.
january 18, 2004

inside every beautiful song a thousand broken hearts lay paused.
february 2, 2004

life is full of choices, but sometimes none of them are good.
february 9, 2004

i'm blank like one of my own pages. when i couldn't express.
march 17, 2004

knowing life is a scab. a crsuty, bloody seal of a wound. and wanting so much to pick at
march 20, 2004