orgami's Diaryland Diary

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brand of spark

INTO the future
your eyes
blue and iridescent
like the rays from
welder arcs

you scald me with
your visions
there is no THen
to mix with your NOW

we are like copper
and stainless

Refusing to buy a lighter
you stay to your wooden
matchs
your small beach stone
rounded and huddled on
the old mantle

Never used the safety matchs
I bought
you can light your matchs
on your zippers
when you lounge
lost in concentration
in dust motes in the afternoon
the television drones

you lifted you heel and your
thin black boot you struck
a flaming brand

and that beach stone
when I feel the fear
you touch the match
and draw it slowly
as it sizzles and
erupts into action

the crisp cigarette
flavour
the only time you
appear to relax

1:08 p.m. - 2010-08-02

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