orgami's diary

orgami's Diaryland Diary

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adress and fold this game thats old

flakes like crystal hologram
glitter in their way
past the bright and brittle sway

these cold stars
fresh in the state
an hours wait

old is the pace
the routine stale
and love grown
thin like a drop
from a faucet
beating in the metal
skin the unlit
kitchen soul

I wont meet what I need
I cant hold what I want
for she never exists

the flaws in the facets
lie faulted stellar

its no ones fault
my coffees cold
and she never knows
the old wounds
I tend

prefer my company of
ghosts They never grow
old never waver from
their dailogue of bold

Im so tired of the exertions
this focus width
Im leaning in

all I wanted
Im told
will not be

but I try
how Ive tried
to wake and realize
its only a front
the thin veneer
the cheap dime
for your time
and mine

1:49 a.m. - 2010-12-26

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