Part of survival is dying. To survive something, you have to die of circumstances. But you do live through it all. The new world order zap the old testament. I beseech for the praying knees and hands. It is the same as the magic of a voodoo hand.

He always hated me, since the beginning. Birthing red spills into a volcano was his tears when he wept. Mom forgot about Tommy. I was no more than his **** inside his diapers. I was a throwaway child. A rugrat. Unborn again into the womb. I had no spare feeling of bitterness when the salt sat on my dry tongue. I was fed of love. Brotherly love. I have grown to realize that my relationship was not composed of such gentle intimacy. The love was dangling on the edge and my grip grew less and less, with my fingers producing heavy perspiration. I let go and let a smile edge my cheeks.

The man in the mirror has no reflection.

Live lone die well.

The poor man has a dollar and greed while the rich man is broke and liberal.

The poor man has a dollar and greed while the rich man is broke and liberal.

All my life I had this feeling like I lost something. I would always get this over rushed and unwarming chain of emotions out the blue. I had no clue as why I felt what I was feeling. At first, I pretended and blamed it on the **** I was smoking. I thought maybe I was puffing on the joint too much and it was ******* with my mind.


Disclaimer:  Say no to drugs because withdrawals are a *******.

As time passed by, I became distant from everything that meant all the world to me. One day as I was getting dressed for work, I noticed something peculiar that greeted my eyes. I looked at myself in the mirror and only saw my work uniform and my badge that read: Cashier.