Apr 2012
There’s a drum set in my room. Just beside my bed.
I have 4 pairs of sticks; one has a broken head.
The cat is roaming around, finding a place to sleep.
He plays around with my blanket. Needling it with his feet.
A bottle of beer, half empty, half full.
Another half drank bottle of wine, a commodity of a fool.
A ***** ashtray in the table and a cigarette between my fingers.
Just right between my pinky and the ring, where it putridly lingers.
No one’s playing the drums, yet the silence is deafening
The broken stick head is still on the ground, where it fell from breaking.
The cat now quietly resting, just licked his nose after yawning.
His name is Sae, the syllable I say in a high pitch when I call him.
The beer is now quarter full, around hundred fifty milliliters
It’s 750 if full, but empty when touched by drinkers
The ashtray, dozen of butts, ***** of ashes
The loneliness, the silence, an evidence, a witness.
It’s just another night of my life, my joy, my agony
They said young life was fun, not for me.
I have no job, I have no partner, I have no money.
And just to make it worse, my father was taken away from me.
Now, I’m alone, though I still have family.
One from my father, another from my mother and a brother younger than me.
I’m not complaining about anything, I love my life and I live it too.
A philosophy of mine, ‘if you love love, love has got to love you.’
Even if love loves me, fate has other plan planned for me.
An invisible web of thread hidden from me.
Though it would be easier if I knew where I should go.
And not think of excuses and impromptu responses once the troubles grow.
I see the Sae staring at me, his eyes mildly close, but looking at me.
He wants to sleep but still waiting for me.
If only it was that easy, that one can sleep and forget everything.
A beer and a cigarette and every problem would be nothing.
A potion, a smoke couldn’t change anything, nothing at all.
But helps you forget the times fate made you crawl.
It would only give music for a silent night but noise for the trouble.
Lets you sleep, but wake up in the morning with the trouble doubled.
Fate, oh fate. If beer, smoke, music and Sae could only convince you.
That I’m young and senseless, would you make it easier for a fool.
If only the silence bear music, the beer give solutions,
the smoke give predictions, and Sae tell me that in fate, there’s no absolutions.
I have 4 pairs of sticks; one has a broken head.
The cat is roaming around, finding a place to sleep.
He plays around with my blanket. Needling it with his feet.
A bottle of beer, half empty, half full.
Another half drank bottle of wine, a commodity of a fool.
A ***** ashtray in the table and a cigarette between my fingers.
Just right between my pinky and the ring, where it putridly lingers.
No one’s playing the drums, yet the silence is deafening
The broken stick head is still on the ground, where it fell from breaking.
The cat now quietly resting, just licked his nose after yawning.
His name is Sae, the syllable I say in a high pitch when I call him.
The beer is now quarter full, around hundred fifty milliliters
It’s 750 if full, but empty when touched by drinkers
The ashtray, dozen of butts, ***** of ashes
The loneliness, the silence, an evidence, a witness.
It’s just another night of my life, my joy, my agony
They said young life was fun, not for me.
I have no job, I have no partner, I have no money.
And just to make it worse, my father was taken away from me.
Now, I’m alone, though I still have family.
One from my father, another from my mother and a brother younger than me.
I’m not complaining about anything, I love my life and I live it too.
A philosophy of mine, ‘if you love love, love has got to love you.’
Even if love loves me, fate has other plan planned for me.
An invisible web of thread hidden from me.
Though it would be easier if I knew where I should go.
And not think of excuses and impromptu responses once the troubles grow.
I see the Sae staring at me, his eyes mildly close, but looking at me.
He wants to sleep but still waiting for me.
If only it was that easy, that one can sleep and forget everything.
A beer and a cigarette and every problem would be nothing.
A potion, a smoke couldn’t change anything, nothing at all.
But helps you forget the times fate made you crawl.
It would only give music for a silent night but noise for the trouble.
Lets you sleep, but wake up in the morning with the trouble doubled.
Fate, oh fate. If beer, smoke, music and Sae could only convince you.
That I’m young and senseless, would you make it easier for a fool.
If only the silence bear music, the beer give solutions,
the smoke give predictions, and Sae tell me that in fate, there’s no absolutions.
