puellarina's Diaryland Diary

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twenty something

wet, mineral city
crunchy mushroom flavor
plush orange couches
tangy pink lamp shades
from long ago.
We wear black
proudly.
We look like mysterious tears
are common
and yet we laugh
with a jaggedy edge
and drink
metallic dregs
from timely capsules
sold by six
and turn up the tinny tunes
that play background
to the too loud ruffle
of clothing
the ominous breath in the room
our hands, searching our hair.

9:42 p.m. - 2004-10-01

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