orgami's Diaryland Diary

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summer haze....

eight years
on
off...

no great romance...
survival...the wars only lasted
a few years and everyone
who volunteered got rotated
killed off or mia..

relationships are a lifer thing
like falling down the rabbit hole
forever..
and ever..
like the Shinnin Twins...

except i dont need the bar
or no bartender to chat with..
i can think on my own in
the land of lah.

eight months sober and its a
fucking mess still
and not...
there are people with real
messes who are dug in..operating
and achieving a lot...

broken and broken and broken..

godamn...

pull people out and they dive in
again...lost in the void or vortex
or survivin and thriving
so i ask myself..what am i doing
am i living or dying this time.

all this slowly just shutting me
down....

nickel and dime budget to boot..
always ten dollars short on smoke
budget...coffee budget...
ten bucks is a new pair of second
hand shoes....
fifteen was what we hocked stuff that
cost us thousands in pay out to loan
places..stereo system..sweet..watched the cds get loaned out to friend..never t come back....paid paid and things now in hock...mind numbing...

five years of slowly crashing down..
handing over more money..more stuff
living on less and less of new clothes..
shoes...bus trips...it was funny at first...riding..hitting the bikes in the rain and cold and heat..shopping bags balanced wobbly...now its real...now i see why people have the faces they do walking in to work..their second job to pay their lives they have gotten into..or out of...

the poetry is disentegrating on the other site.....pms,,the usual human drama....how that was fun too in the beginning..but now thats real...maybe the sobriety is what changed it...i never had enough time in straight to just live through this stupid foggy haze that goes for reality....way too easy to just get drunk..for what? i hated that addiction....

my poetry...i dont even write here anymore...but then again..this is the poets life...living in shitty shape shift worlds....eating dirt....humility and shame every other move and the well to do's fearful of my wild looks and wild side thats free trying to cut me off.....i look like a character...and the people who make the effort to either smile and be nice or the ones laughing..look like everybody else..but I..like the poetry make my difference...

i just take the dog and go for walks on the trails....cut straight through the wods with her on lead..weaving..like a tracker would do..like the original dog man team of old...now its for fun...but in the old days it was real...

fighting the usual...depression..like i cant wait for winter..the wet feet..the damp shoes because i cant afford decent boots....gov is messed up....first time i never made good money working and i owe...crazy..poverty is created..
everyone chipping away..seventy thous a year jobs and taking their remarks their moves......

i wanted to write poetry not political jargon...but its like you cant be happy...you cant be creative....its like fritz langs metropolis.....only thing they cant do is read inside your head..but they can look at the internet..read your keystrokes...see it.....i wandered lonely as a cloud...why would i put that in...
because its poetry..not mine but one i remembered long ago thinking ..what is this.....

anyway...just whats going on..tiny tiny glimpse...and i read my old stuff from 2005....nine freaking long years ago...i dont make any more sense or less from then...

i really want to go back to just writing mindless poetry that i liked.....

12:23 a.m. - 2014-07-14

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