Light Post

"Light Post"

Grab this tiny palm,

With all you can bear;

Sing my advent psalm,

To light you somewhere.

Firefly, lead her please,

Connect my old root;

Gently as a kiss,

My forbidden fruit.

Speak up lil' lady,
"Is this the way home?"
Know it's uncanny,
'Tis not in your tome.


Time pass by like rain,
But here I shall stay;
Like a paper crane,
Made by their own way.

The cat from hell

I just woke up from a crazy and half-remembered dream. A dream of a cat. But not just any ordinary cat, it's a talking cat!

In my dream, he approached me and spoke. The voice sounded familiar but I cannot remember who or what it sounded like. The furry beast just spoke and told me the people he killed. It's as if the goddamn "meow-meow" is inventorying his murder list. That thing made me sick. 

Of course I tried to recall the names mentioned  by the cat in my dreams. No single name came out from my head. All I remember is the depiction of him, seating beside me, looking directly to me, and saying those forgettable names. 

Creepy.

----
EDIT: Cats appearing in a dream symbolizes being independent, having strong ideas about how things should be.

This is particularly true about me. My ideas are like cancer to me and with them, I tend to be perfectionist of almost anything. Lessening this trait would be a good start. :)

When a joker stopped joking

It's been a while since I last wrote here. I feel ashamed of myself. Jeez...

I've been in some countless workloads for these past few months and from the way I see it -- the bitterness of reality -- has only just begun. There are many bumps along these days that affected me so much causing my health to deteriorate bit my bit. I often ask myself, "How far will you go, master? How far?" And with a sigh, I simply hide my winter-y eyes and have an escape in the form of silence. 

My colleagues knew that I always kid around. Say funny things like this. Have an amusing look at that. Make a comic remark hidden in an insult. And smile like there's no tomorrow. Of course I do those things to hide my stress. To suppress my melancholic personality. 

When was the last time I read a fiction book? I don't know. When was the last time I date myself? I don't know either. It's as if the universe conspires with Sisters of Fate disallowing me to have my own free time to do the things I do best.

Anyhow, the die is cast and I have no doubt to go back to whoever I was before. The funny thing is despite the fact I now have my own workplace, I travel a lot (like 40-50 kilometers a day) making the long highway my second home. The only thing that's left for me to bring during that everyday venture is a huge pillow and a white blanket. Yeah, I know it sucks.

But here's the deal, I'm gonna quit one of my jobs this coming April. The reason? The job takes me for granted -- abusing my kindness knowing that getting 'angry' is not in my long list of words. 

Maybe I'll start studying again. Reading law books this time. And to emancipate myself the trouble I had in the undergrad. 

Here I go.