orgami's diary

orgami's Diaryland Diary

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sexual orient

feel so old
outdated
moded

my silly faux jacket
and art bike
my plaster dusted
spatter pants

and here listening to
music
Joy Division Shadowplay
awesome song words
the drums
the guitar
i revel in its rich
apathy

and now
Doors Soul Kitchen
Jim Morrions voice
most famous
sadly that his
read poems on tape
and little poem books
fell flat

his blues songs
never up as this
and others

and "Send me an Angel"
by some band from
New Zealand or someplace
1981 I was fifteen
that summer and severely
depressed
alone at my fathers country
home with the toys
the guns the alcohol
the all night radio sitting
in the front seat of the
two door LTD FORD 1973
brown on brown

later it was Doors
when I feel down or feel
my souls ache I come to
this music which
is often

I wish I had freinds I
could call up and say
come to the coffee shoppe
for a talk
come out to the bar for
a sip and a tale

however

I have no one really

just my Lori
and we are so strange together
such seperate worlds we come
from

I like her for this
the difference

and i am talking more to people
who are in management positions
again

people who know the know
how the citys currents really
run Not the face

bought some new aftershave today
run out of Yves St Laurent

Addidas a black box with a tiny
football logo on it five bucks
at Wal Mart It smells really
good though

I remember when I bought seventy
five dollars for colonge

when I sold real estate with Carolee
on weekends
the tie the suit the shoes

back to the music
Interpol Cmere

feel like tearing apart my
heart
stuffing it full of morphine
softening up the shards
of memorie
falling in brilliant colours
like raining stained glass

all the road stories
comsuming themselves with
histories inside my head

all the beds in which I
conquered my women
or was conquered

laying collapsed
run out with the effort
and lust
chilled

my mind suffused with
chemicals released
like a frothing
river run

fumbling in the middle
quieting the static of
my head

dopamine explosion
receptor uptake

sexual gratification
and release
the pleasure so wanton
so good

like filling in my eyes
with colour
of sunsets on the lake

the smiling eyes of my
loves
the tears

the candles still guttering
and nights windows open

reach for the Pernod
sip another beer

run a hand along the
warmth of my girl
the breasts
the stomach
the mound
long legs
and sweet
small toes