orgami's Diaryland Diary

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Frei

depression crawls in beside
my morning wakes me
slipping into my soul
like a ravaged cloak

My hands shake making
coffee the grounds falling
like volcanic sand
the kettle wavering
in the weary tube light
crackling like static
through the dry paper cupped
mound

i want to cry but there nothings
inside Just dust and wind
swirling when I open the door
like a tomb robbed

function all the while
we are supposed to do

depression left when all the
rejections come and gone
all the old battles so hung
onto for ground is just
ground

depression from the hunger
of lonliness that sucks the
lively joy from bones

the pain of looking at the
beauty in a clear morning
when the sun first fires
at that degree above
the horizon

knowing that I am wrong
about everything
knowing that I can learn
if I just let go

if

6:51 p.m. - 2010-10-28

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