. . Oo,
alam ko naging brutal at grabe ang aking mata.
.. alam ko.
kaso pa ulit ulit na lan at di mawala araw araw.
How am I to be. .
a good person,
a loving parent,
When a mountain of comparison
never stops only to flow
from your waterfall.
yes it does overflow when I hit
those bricks of assumption not of you,
only the history I partake and eat all of my shit.
There are certain values do keep,
all of us who see it as a woe and yes in terms of weep.
This crept in as a new Monday’s revelation
while I took in a 3 hour sketching perforation,
of my knees locked incarceration of the love of food.
Do bring in the swollen inflammation.
Y is the love of the letter, yet Z doesn’t given
any of this insane quatrain of lines
will not even pertain on a single note.
Aah the dawn beckons.
While I wait for a loving embrace of rain.
You are born into a world
that will not tolerate you.
We can not complain while all
of us never do try not be as them;
It is karma of an ouroborous bite
not of my bum.
It strikes to where it wants,
. . . and needs to see of its
and the balance it implies.
. . Is it just when the ice does melt; whereas the fire fire do melt
my tempered attitude willingly deny the truth when your fact is an act
towards not to me.
But you will never admit your mistakes because you still make your egocentric self-defense as,
the one who put me here in this world.
use it well let’s see,
so please don’t ever tell me,
I was any Soundwave whom never spoke.
I am not your Decepticon.
Here I come to be,
not of my doing,
none of my being.
Does all my madness of my anger
yet never to give aggression an excuse.
To give in to that place,
where my fist can never be,
where my emotional love of misery.
Sure I am to have it all,
on a whim of my own
revenge that never avenge.
Likely to be involved,
only my mind and heart do tell,
I can never get into my own,
Verily I am to shiver,
all of this arrows quiver
of my epidermic walls.
Chill my ice,
never went nice
ask me twice.
I do love your nagging voice,
coz at least my cold skin
begins to boil to a crisp.
Enough to know you can love me as the same,
to keep my mind aflame.
. . . in the absence of my pen,
I am to be.
not of my hand.
not of my intellect.
none of what I know.
Yes to then,
that was never than,
No to myself,
coz my ego blew you,
and mine last summer.
When Jean met my eye,
never my mouth to say.
Aisle of oooh.
When can u speak a truth,
When its full of topical and cosmetically applied over the bed of miscontrued lies over lies.
Yet a simple speak of the white but never too black of a color that do shades a bed when all was done never said.
An image of an illusion that cannot be seen by the hand, does my eye covet of all lies never any of the fact of life that leeches and never dries
of my memory,
do keep. . .
and yes reminds me.
Why do I live there?
Can’t I get out of its grip,
you of all things in mind.
You are such a storm crow,
that never lands but does fall on all of my thoughts.
Sure I can,
. . avoid,
. . ignore,
. . stop,
and make you go away.
Still like as a leaf,
you do make my life a seasoned worrier of my past.
Never ceases to amaze even all of those emotional maelstrom,
yes those passed.
yes I went through it all.
I prayed constantly and consistent that
you won’t happen again.
Am I addicted to all that I haven’t done
would I imagine you here.
I want to make my own and now of what a
Thought can make me.
not the then,
than to keep like this.
when you ca not give that.
where you place that to who you think it needs.
One can say,
my anger would be the death of me.
Yet it is my own devil who taunts me of my,
and your flaws that kept me alive.
So you can see that fuel that burns.
I told myself then,
I will not hate you all my life.
Yet all of my woe and the sickness of anger resides.
Its an ember and of tinder
which never died.
Yet a flick of the wind,
a cool breeze to lull,
yes only elementals did provide.
All those were in favor,
kept this insanity line embedded,
“They are still your parents.”