ng aking tsinelas.
Nawala ang aking medyas.
Sobrang super pa at napako pa ang kalyo ko.
Syeteng buhay pa,
at na apakan pa ng pagka at malaman na ebak,
na diko alam kung pano hugasan.
Pero in a way,
kelangan ko na maging honest to myself.
Kasi if not,
I can try na malinisan naman.
Knowing how to make things work para naman,
alam ko in the next time around.
I can be with or without tsinelas.
I can always try na linisan ang aking paa,
at wag mag paa.
In any case, I can go just like so,
and never be anymore like any halfling.
I will not go in that smuck ridden turds of farmer Giles’
shrooms that is so ever enticing and so warm under my tongue.
Rohan me a gap,
where all mine were Moira’s.
Why Mordor all that which has no Shire,
only which a precious one ring,
that burzum a lugburz that hate this grishnack of an elven Ent.
Why do I always Lewis that Tolkein,
Damn you Morris.
If it weren’t for your essay on Fangorn,
I’d be running a long like rabbit out of Mirkwood
into that night,
where Alice would at least drink a cup of alcohol tea,
and loving one to two hoopla of my Lewis into all these.
Respect ran away from me.
It said my brutal honesty was doing nothing,
but fucking it at him and not the way it wanted.
Loyalty kept its distance away from me.
all of my honest living is making her poor.
couldn’t get a benz out of it.
Yet there was an ugliest of all ugly.
That was and still kept me,
Hope never really realized
that no matter how it got worst
and got to a blackest stain and
never came out.
So me and Hope,
will make our love stand.
In the face of all,
there is. . .
there were . . .
there are . . .
and that is meant to be.
The ink ran
while a magnet canned a can of chips.
A pen moved
while a transistor loved its relay to a motor.
Why did the stylus broke apart
when the user can not seen to seen,
only a wallet that was left at the scene.
Opened and broken and not stolen,
yet its contents have nothing but its own tears
from just this year.
Smile me a simile as
would I be a clown
but not a joker.
Love me a board to be
not be as bored although I can make
a cord of those carboards.
Why then like a like when I
cannot even comment as
my own comet be as an irony
to be liked and frowned on.
link me a line,
where all hooks gather at the same time.
As this sinks to sunk a sucker to swim,
for I cannot go further from my own fodder.
© XenoGrapx XENOphagz
Could the shoulds would’ve been a can?
Should the woulds could’ve shall be a shant?
Will this tongue be twisted tangled and tango at the same time,
you took my hand and loved me at your breast,
while I became none but your soulless forever puppy;
Because you came to me asking of love and devotion one can only