Tears so subliminal that it quenches the scorching  radiation of the sun, that it watereth the most dreary of deserts..
Tears taken from the very ocean of life,
Ocean which is the event horizon of ships..
Ships whose propellers are naught but two elements, with the given names pleasure and fear..  
Two elements driven the ship thither and whither but to the nigh end..
End which is determined yet not determined, an interim end which transient into phases..

It was a hot Sunday afternoon on my way to the bus terminal
Wearing khaki shorts, white converse, and my favorite blue shirt
Walking under the scorching sun like some Quiapo criminal
Craving for ***** ice cream and buy one like the woman on red skirt

Tired, I arrived at the terminal and heard the conductor shout,
“Lucena, Lucena, Lucena,” so I ran and immediately went on
There were a couple chattering and beside them their kid, a scout
Vendors selling Chicharon and Espasol and then they were gone

I can see from my seat most of the bus’ eccentric passengers
One is a weary mother and her cherubic baby crying out loud
A busy businessman on a call, and another is a group of fashioners
But I thought these were all temporary, a transient crowd

So, I stared beyond the vast plains and the nature in disguise
None was ever permanent in this episode, my deep introspection
But one thing I know is certain as sure as the sun will rise
That is slowly I am nearing home, I’m sure of my destination

Petrifying yellow agony that I concealed inside my mind
Made untouchable even from my brown bare hands
Escape like a prisoner but the end is dark and nowhere to find
Untimely, these scarlet embers burning in the sands

Succumbed into a swirling abyss of agonizing questions
A bizarre episode of losing in a game we all call Life
Only cascading tears are present in effortful actions
Merciless, stabbing me relentlessly with a stainless knife

These thoughts have been in my weary heart for the longest time
Hidden under the deepest chambers preventing anyone to discover
Hindering myself to soar with blissfulness, it’s the most violent crime
Lest, I’ll be ****** and impossible to recover

Mixed thoughts of melancholy and sorrow, these are all fleeting
Although these were the ones that left a massive and painful scar
Shrouded by the blanket of smiles behind an unbearable sting
I cannot wake up from this nightmare yet because it’s dawning afar

It's transient aphasia
When the bullets only graze ya
And nobody can save ya
From the fog

And you think that it's a tumour
In a twist of Satan's humour
And you feel that you will lose your
Dialogue

Then the gathering frustration
At the failed interpretation
As nobody in the nation
Feels your pain

I know my head's imperfect
I will need some time to work it
It's just a slight short circuit
In my brain
                                rc