Outside. Loud stereos bang. The sky changes from black to red- to yellow- to blue and green. Fire crackers, continuously pop-- sounding like heavy raindrops in a stormy July.
A painful sarcasm.
Inside my room. Zero decibel. Pitch-black darkness. Dirty clothes everywhere. My sobbing duets with the symphony of kwitis, five star, crying cow, sinturon ni hudas, etc.
Green-eyed monster turns bitter.
Outside. Irritating noise. Smog filling the cold midnight. Bombs exploding. Machine gun recklessly being fired. Children moaning.
Inside my room. Soft chuckling. Confettis dropping.
Tradition
No polka dots. No twelve fruits. No bigas & barya shower. No pot clanking. Empty pockets. Closed doors and windows. No more 2005 luck? I stopped believing in 'luck'. In 'love'? Maybe soon.
Crap!
Cheers! Jesus cares.
0 burp(s):
Post a Comment
<< Home