Coffee (1 of 3)

Coffee

Because it is not my lips
You seek for your own
So you may savor the day
That is being born, as promised,
Laced with the aftertaste
Of ashes and yesterday.

Because my hands are scarred
And your skin bristle, your flesh
Shiver at the contact of its strangeness
Your skin knows, though could not detect
The washed out spilled catsup,
Dash of pepper and salt
Lying just beneath my skin
And so you dare not discover
What twigs it could gather, for bonfires
To blaze in your darkness,
melting scraps of your shields
And forging them into new spoon and forks,
Into a goblet.

Because my voice is not his voice
My eyes are not the stars of your blued skies
In daylight or dark.

been jumping from site to site and i realize i have missed a lot. i made replies to querries that were posted last month..waaaahhh..

but i am alive..and i want to stay that way.

"revenge is for children. those who want it are basically emotionally immature"

i got this thanks to my sis uGa..now i know that if im gonna be a cyborg one day, my name would be and mean...



(check out http://www.cyborgname.com/ )

gotta make a run..but slowly, i would be back..im alive, hear me!

it has been a while..literally...

its been like months since the last time i posted something here, and just a few days after that since i visited here. im glad that the site havent shut down this enclave of mine though i have been absent for too long.

so many things have happened eversince i last words i fashioned from memory into this electronic papers. so many things...

but one thing for sure..i am alive..i am alive...

"and im glad im still alive" - eddie vedder of pearl jam

a sure sight against sore eyes these days...



and another one...



love knows love..love attracts love...love binds..in freedom