I am a Wheel
Kids these days
preventive, pre-registration, credit, trial;
she doesn't like the way one stutters with hiccups and sobs when talking while crying,
so she lets one know she'll never give you good old days to miss.
instant, electronic, virtual, animated, Profile, Friends, written and directed by;
he thinks of tomorrow too early in the day, so he lets one know he'll be there
when you start stop wearing cute underwear, when you're insane, when you've menopaused;
North star, grandfather, watchtower, sequoia, steel, yours, yours, yours, your one and only
he thinks of seven years from now a month into it, and imagines feelings yet to be born, but will be, if he'd stop thinking,
if he'd see: while he builds a houses and places twins and a dog in his sleep, she is depressed
by the fact that he fell asleep while they were still talking.
pinhole, crack, fault, crumbled dirt, falling, endless black, rift, chasm;
she smiles when she sees your nappy hair, she snorts when you fumble, she smiles with ketchup on her chin,
she is so real... when the day ends you go home, take off your shoes and tell yourself you're lucky.
in the bus she tallies how many times your hand reached for hers, is he too needy, she folds the foils of your Kisses,
she remembers, she measures, she calculates, she is deliberate, she is conscious, she is awake.
cold hands, sweaty hands, shaking hands, trembling, umms, errs, silences, can't we;
he dreams when he should be awake and she watches out when she should be sighing,
they don't understand, but they think they do, and they ask other people what do you think?
not to hear them, no we don't give a fuck what you think (really man, I don't) but to flaunt
that --look o! -- they have something to lose.
(awww ang cute).
walking home, sad songs, together but each alone, phone calls, texts, emails, can you tell him that I said;
and now they stumble upon the disgusting truths, that they were both wrong about what made them work,
that they were wrong about what could go wrong,
he sees his dreams shooed away by her screeching,
she sees that he's not paying attention.
the last one in bars, tears and spit, the static in between the final track and the end of the tape, credits,
so when someone makes him dream again, he tries his best to hate her at the end of the day,
she's a spy, his heart rasps, she holds a dagger, in the shadows,
when someone makes her smile again, she shrugs off the tingles when they part,
and she's constantly looking for other possibilities, the guy at her ten a.m. class, maybe,
and she'll take none of them, and he'll
not dream
he'll wait,
and she'll
not feel
she'll play
and they'll stay away from these... things, because it's sneaky, this love.
this is the way we love, she said,
with a shotgun under the bed.
-last line from Brian Russel's "Shotgun under the bed"-
God: Mahal na mahal kita kaya bubuhayin kita.
Ako: meh.
nakakatamad.
Satan: Hi God.
preventive, pre-registration, credit, trial;
she doesn't like the way one stutters with hiccups and sobs when talking while crying,
so she lets one know she'll never give you good old days to miss.
instant, electronic, virtual, animated, Profile, Friends, written and directed by;
he thinks of tomorrow too early in the day, so he lets one know he'll be there
when you start stop wearing cute underwear, when you're insane, when you've menopaused;
North star, grandfather, watchtower, sequoia, steel, yours, yours, yours, your one and only
he thinks of seven years from now a month into it, and imagines feelings yet to be born, but will be, if he'd stop thinking,
if he'd see: while he builds a houses and places twins and a dog in his sleep, she is depressed
by the fact that he fell asleep while they were still talking.
pinhole, crack, fault, crumbled dirt, falling, endless black, rift, chasm;
she smiles when she sees your nappy hair, she snorts when you fumble, she smiles with ketchup on her chin,
she is so real... when the day ends you go home, take off your shoes and tell yourself you're lucky.
in the bus she tallies how many times your hand reached for hers, is he too needy, she folds the foils of your Kisses,
she remembers, she measures, she calculates, she is deliberate, she is conscious, she is awake.
cold hands, sweaty hands, shaking hands, trembling, umms, errs, silences, can't we;
he dreams when he should be awake and she watches out when she should be sighing,
they don't understand, but they think they do, and they ask other people what do you think?
not to hear them, no we don't give a fuck what you think (really man, I don't) but to flaunt
that --look o! -- they have something to lose.
(awww ang cute).
walking home, sad songs, together but each alone, phone calls, texts, emails, can you tell him that I said;
and now they stumble upon the disgusting truths, that they were both wrong about what made them work,
that they were wrong about what could go wrong,
he sees his dreams shooed away by her screeching,
she sees that he's not paying attention.
the last one in bars, tears and spit, the static in between the final track and the end of the tape, credits,
so when someone makes him dream again, he tries his best to hate her at the end of the day,
she's a spy, his heart rasps, she holds a dagger, in the shadows,
when someone makes her smile again, she shrugs off the tingles when they part,
and she's constantly looking for other possibilities, the guy at her ten a.m. class, maybe,
and she'll take none of them, and he'll
not dream
he'll wait,
and she'll
not feel
she'll play
and they'll stay away from these... things, because it's sneaky, this love.
this is the way we love, she said,
with a shotgun under the bed.
-last line from Brian Russel's "Shotgun under the bed"-
God: Mahal na mahal kita kaya bubuhayin kita.
Ako: meh.
nakakatamad.
Satan: Hi God.