Saturday, March 05, 2011


The drop trickling down
an old rut, hidden under
a thick brush and worn-out
leather; a man at large.
Oh, you've grown up;
ready to sin, ready to win.

And this water,
yeah; it's his heart weeping,
for he was still taking a
noon nap after mama's lunch,
when the world did many a Mach. 
The sonic boom afterthought,
shook him back to reality;
tears ain't virtual anymore.

No comments: