May heaven bless
Auntie Mimi
for in the years
after Uncle Buboy
left her
for celestial embraces
that are warmer than hers,
she has faithfully prayed the rosary;
but most of the time,
when I see her
through the eternal crack
of the ancient door
to her room,
she would roll a single bead
between her fingers,
while her eyes roll
towards heaven
and warm,
viscid
tears
trickle
down
her thighs.
It's because the earth continues to wobble on its axis that we continue to stumble down the streets of the heart. It's because of the loneliness of the first cell trying to swim through its primordial pool that we are filled with a kind of galactic fear. For example: one moment a rocket falls capriciously into a square. Another moment, a rogue wave turns over the fishing boat whose crew leaves their memories floating like an oil slick that never reaches shore. In this way we understand our dying loves scratching at the door. In this way, each love creates its own theory of pain. Each love gnaws the derelict hours to the bone. But because there are so many blank spaces in history we still have time to write our own story. Wittgenstein said our words have replaced our emotions. He never understood how we have to cleanse ourselves of these invisible parasites of doubt and fear. We might as well worry about the signals from dead worlds wandering around the universe forever. Think i...
Hmmmm, ok to ah, hehe, you got any more by the same author? or if you don't would you tell me where you got this piece? salamat po
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