DRAG

DRAG
ME
TO
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
WWWOOORRRKKK
^^^^^^^^^^^^

kaboom

The self ponders on his condition - a state of mind wandering off to somewhere, anywhere but here. anywhere but here. the physical torture, the psychological battle, the mental mindplay.

it all works out into the desolation, a place cramped in the unused files of office clutter. yeah, this clutter. what a glorious sound it makes.

growing into mountains,mountains circled on mountains, growing, mountains, drawing mind clocks, clicking right, left, right, left, until you get hypnotized...

right, left, click, clock, click, clock, until you get engulfed by it. hypnotized, deceived into believing, the mountains, these clocks, the piles of edits and edits, wasted time, wasted pencil traces, arrogant slavedrivers, this sarcastic place is all where you will be, the place where you belong. the place where you are meant to be.

click, clock, click, clock.

it's almost saturday. and the clock begins again, hypnotizing. making you believe.

this sarcasm.

click.

clock.

kaboom.

TEN DAY NO POST

Rationale: Venturing into the unfamiliar territory - the short story.

lions cum lambs

To see lions – ferocious, wild creatures with roars feared and respected – is a scary feat per se.
But the scarier thought comes to mind:
These lions – gargantuan and now so becoming – were once little lambs, soft-spoken, innocent lambs, sacrificial yet determined.
And that is how the food chain goes in this jungle.
And that is how these lions will always be.

...

DUMAAN

Maswerte ka.
Inaalalayan ka ng tula
Binubuo sa iyo ang kanta.
Sagot ka ng kanyang mga
Panalangin
Hawak mo ang kanyang mga
mata.

Ang kamay na hindi ko maangkin,
Ang mga dasal na hindi matutupad,
Ang kantang kulang sa huni,
Ang tulang hindi makabuo ng saknong.
Maswerte pa rin ako at

KA

...

isinulat nang dumaan ka.

...and then she hits fifteen past twelve

and then she hits it - confusing the next hour with doldrums, sleep, doldrums, nap, doldrums, weak, doldrums, droopy eyes, dolrums, yawning, doldrums, counting sheeps, doldrums - and the world, his day, is watching her minute exercise, like a coordinated reflex from a yoga session, only in slow-mo.

the day is half-way through, and the day is becoming a long stride of that magnestic quest, that hunger, for some fruitful endeavor - something mentally
edible, digestible, ah, salivating.

but at least the sight here, visually, is the stimulation of those fries, twisted and fat, delectable and yes, forbidden.

too much salt perhaps. or too much cholesterol for my heart to pump.
it's too much to bear, really. my system is about to excrete them in a matter of time - when it finally decides these fries are not worth their momentary bliss, after all. finally.

the good thing about these fries, though is that i consume them mentally, in the figurative confines of my lost digestives - at least for now, until they get excreted.

and they, these fries, the imaginative fiction that they have become - twisted and forbidden - satisfies the hunger that lurks when she hits fifteen past twelve.

before she hits twelve...

...a lazy thought before the afternoon break - a quiet relaxing stroll in an imaginative town, an indecisive place for the lunch feast, a haunting growl of the digestives.

and that celebrated partner, that chance of the lifetime - a marriage perhaps, more so a romantic ceremony of i do's and you dont's.
and the reality that abrupts everything - the digestives.

it's famished. so are my thoughts.

one bowl of perspective to feed the mind, coming in thirty strikes of the mother hand.