orgami's Diaryland Diary

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cold drek

bare hundred watter
gleaming on the tower
washed with Pine Sol
the floor unvacumed
with its layer of dust
like the moon silt..
white crush..no truth
to the mix

my mind wanders and I
feel that wind raking
in from a kilometers view
the crystal snow rising
like a hex and slipping
through fences and over
round baled hay

makes me want to go and
listen to Apparition by
Raveonettes or something
like it...or The Underground
Youth Persona...

feel locked in
waiting for the spring sun
in the length of the tomb

and enjoying this nighst death
beneath the spirit gods and
godesses that are hungry

12:19 a.m. - 2013-01-01

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