orgami's Diaryland Diary

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filthy wonder in electric salvations

DROP down
like a quarter slipping from fingers
and rolling across the tiles
black and white

the cold flourescence fills your
vacant eyes
large with dark concentric
waves
Your hair framing
vivid encapsulation
of moment

You are a binary wavelength
with red flashs
the livid hair
gleaming like the cups
precariously balanced
in the rubbermaid drying
rack the sharp seeking
knives are leaning

the night is pressed
idle against the heart
of darkness

and you are my rampart
desire in your light
washed flesh
You are my emaciation
my soul eviction

you are the drains in
my spirit
dumping ballast emotion

I can feel your fingers
your soft hands light
on my body

Im a thousand hungry years
away already
and when you speak your
voice is so subtle
like a wind in the ferns
and

there are trains calling

and your face is beautiful
haunted and alive

there is so much in the
rooms of your keeping
the yard of your grooming
is a mystery garden

and in the flower bed
there are butterfly graves
and feirce articulations
of copecetic remonstrations

9:52 p.m. - 2010-08-13

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