wama

30.07.06

I’ve run out of coffee. What will I read now. Tea leaves are so flowery and mysterious. They rumple and fold, push up against one another. Certainly beyond my humble talents. What else. The newspaper. Not my first choice and often more difficult to navigate than the black sand at the bottom of my small cup.

What I really want is to read your eyes. Look deep into them. I dream all the answers lie there in the thick, dark, hello waiting for me there. But you are so far. Or I am so far. Or there is a great distance between us. And I have my own troubles tumbling down buildings stacked upon one another. More and more bodies pushing my limits. Here I stand outstretched refusing noone. They come and come and come. Building dreams stacked one upon the other. Each thinks theirs the purest, the truest.

posted by la kara @ 16:13