Kasalukuyan ako nanonood ng mga resturant shows and thought of you . Nakaupo ako sa sala and thought of you . Kumakain ako ngayon ng pizza and thought of you .
Lahat nalang ng bagay naaalala kita . Lahat ng ginagawa natin dati naaalala ko . Masakit isipin kasi hanggang mga alaala nalang yun , hindi ko na pwedeng balikan . Wala ka na kasi sa akin . Alam kong hindi ka niya iiwanan . Kaya ito ako ngayon . Inaalala nalang lahat ng bagay. Mga bagay na sweet memories nalang . Pero ok lang yun . Nagpapasalamat parin ako na nakilala ko ang isang katulad mo , yung dating nagkukumpleto sa araw ko . Pero hindi na ganoon ngayon . Nagbago na kasi lahat . Nagbago na din kasi ang mga nararamdaman mo para sayo . At pinakawalan na kasi kita
Tribal chants bounce off the concrete community walls of this endless city. This endless destruction. This endless tree genocide that is civilization. Oh so uncivilization. Reverberation. Tribal encantations. Melodious curses pounded into the stratosphere with drums and wooden blocks. Terrified white folk quickly construct bigger guns and stronger shields. Tribal chants vibrate the authority structure until it crumbles. Fat women rush through the debris in search of ice cream. Twitching men dig through garbage heaps for old pornography, or at least, heavily suggestive advertising. SOMETHING that they can jerk off to. Broken white folk scramble like electrified zombies for fixes. For one more hit for their lame, ungodly addictions.
A jaded take. A busted rake. A winter wind from the brutal north. I'm sleepy to the bone. I take myself to the store to buy my specific brand of almond milk. Seagulls huddle on the tar, trying to soak sunshine warmth. I get my milk-like products and go Starbucks. Every optimistic minion is getting in my way. City planners ensure congestion. There's a homeless guy dozing off on a bench near the Starbucks bathroom. He has a coffee, so he's legit. I ask him if he's sleeping rough. He says he is. I ask him his name. I can't tell what he says. His teeth sabotage articulation. I ask him if he has plans for Thanksgiving. He says not now. I give him $12 and leave with my coffee-products. I get home and tell my wife all about him. We talk about how scary it is to approach homeless people and dream together about having homeless folks over for Thanksgiving. Then she says she loves me.
Round and round racing against eachother, fighting for the attention, the music gets louder as they go round the caresole, I am overwhelmed by fatigue but I cannot get off, the thoughts won't stop racing infecting my mind changing who I am, I have to choose but the choice is no longer mine, I can't stop what I have started, I won't stop it
On nights like these, I can almost feel those moments replayed. In my car, I speed down winding back roads, music blaring, trying to block out what used to be. Sadly though, the music isn't loud enough to drown out those dirty parts that make up the mess that is called me. That grief-stricken teen, the one who would have done anything to survive. Those are the things I can never quite forget. As the music gets louder and the roads get curvier, I sink back into who I used to be. But just for a moment. Suddenly, thoughts of those moments where I gave everything away seem to come flooding back in, leaving no room for breathe. That moment where I was trapped underneath him, terrified that screaming would make things worse. Then the moment where I trusted him to take those very large parts of me. Another moment where I thought I couldn't live and almost gave up. All of the moments where people told me I was crazy. The moments I lied and covered up the cuts. The moment where I got called into the office..because people were "concerned." The moment where I wished it would all just end. Then the moment where I took him back, then ran to the next "him." The countless moments I gave myself away, searching for the pieces that the first "him" stole. Every moment that almost broke me, and yet I am still here. Those moments together are who I am today. Though I am proud today, I am ashamed of who I used to be.