I hope, I hope to be a critic.

It is more comforting to look at another’s failure.

than my own.

you have a face of a brute

you tell me sour-faced

like a bulldog

i laugh, i cry like a madman

over your woes

Death and Rebirth

it was not the sun

that died that morning

but us finding darkness

more comfortable.

we dropped our tools,

dropped to our knees

and crawled back to

the womb of memory

and there we dreamt

of better mornings, warmer sunshine.

But how could we know

while we floated in the belly

of silence and cold?

 

limbo is the worst place.

 

 

in another world,

we were about to die again

suffocated in this sac of stagnancy–

but a push and a heave,

a breath of protest

against the bred silence,

and we pass through another birthing.

this one slower and more painful

until we see

the light

again

and burst out laughing.

DEATH WISH

What I would like to be when I’m dead:

A statue.

I believe we don’t have to prescribe to a certain religion in order to have morality.

It’s ironic how Man was driven out of the Garden of Eden but cannot stay out of it.

A reel dream

“Be kind to me or treat me mean.

I’ll make the most of it

I’m an extraordinary machine.”

-Fiona Apple, Extraordinary Machine

                           “You get what everybody gets. You get a lifetime.”

Thumbsucker and thumbsucker

 This is a very late post.

But anyway, I’m posting it for the memory and a future essay.

I saw a thumbsucker one night I wore an old shirt with the words “Thumbsucker by Mike Mills” written on the back. The thumbsucker was a large female European woman–a tourist who was with other female European tourists. She thumbsucked while trying to sleep in the jeepney.