We Have a Dog Named IKEA
What you see is not always what you get.
My sister brought home a dog today.
A four month old Black Lab who's everything but gay
Her fur is shiny and she's seems healthy
But she's so darn shy she won't even walk properly.
She has this piercing gaze and a long black snout
that she usually uses to give us a dog version of pout
I hope she outlives all the other dogs we've had
And it would be nice to see her so big and fat
One thing I don't really like about her
is the name she has given by my sister
It's irritating to hear the furniture shop
being addressed to a freaking pup!
I Saw An Old Woman Spit In The Mall
What you see is not always what you get.
I saw a woman spit in the mall
I looked her in the eye and she still stood tall
She was 5 foot flat or less
With a face that scared me sh*tless
She was a 'manang' in every sense of the word
The one who seems to care for her every herd.
With the usual clothes her age usually wear:
A very long skirt and a top my age would never dare.
The lady was standing next to a bunch of kiosks.
Not to buy anything but was she looking for a toss?
She looked like she was waiting for someone
And maybe her spit had to come undone
Because right then and there in the middle of the mall
She spit her icky saliva and still stood tall.
A Thing Not to be Read
What you see is not always what you get.
There always this time of the month when everything you've tried to suppress and forcibly push away comes haunting your every waking and thinking moment. It is hard to stay carefree and cheery if you're mind is so much preoccupied with 'what if's' and 'i hope's'.
We have to let it out. We have to stop suppressing the things needed to be felt and embraced. That way, we stop the hurt. That's what I read in Tuesdays with Morrie. (BUT I STILL DO NOT know how this thoughtful deed could be done effectively.)
What if I were not that much of an ass?
What if I let you do your stuff your own way?
What if I backed down and let you handle the things the way you think it should be handled?
What if I remained content with what you offered?
What if I kept my mouth shut long enough to hear what you were saying?
What if I conquered my paranoia?
Would you still be here?
I hope someday you'll realize that I am still that person you thought I was.
I hope that you will come to your senses and call me up.
I hope there is still even at least one good memory that can make you go back.
I hope that my happiness will come back.
I hope that someday I'll understand your thinking.
I hope that you give us another chance.
I hope that I get over you.
I hope that I can find the same happiness I had with you in other people.
I hope you'll text back when I ask how you are.
I hope that someday, not later than this lifetime, that you can come to forget the sordid past and remember the laughter, the intimacy, the long conversations about the deepest and shallowest things.
I long for the boy who has made me feel content at 17 years. The boy who made me feel good about myself. The boy who has made me smile amidst the strangers around me. The boy who has thought so well about me.
I was soaring high. Now I realize, it was all too good to be true.
I'd risk everything for that feeling again.
Lessons are learned. I have changed. For you.
How I miss you.
I miss you, evil_genius.
