In the last day of August, I sat towering over someone as I help myself with porridge. The person has a thing to lean her eyes on, my own loiter from inch to inch of the surroundings because I don't have a thing to lean my eyes on.
In the last day of August, her first words echoed in the still room. I listened with undivided attention. I chuckled from time to time. I laughed to some remarks, but then will always drop my convex lips with a frown. I stared with a puzzling gaze.
In the last day of August, her words of retrospection continued, spread even wider than the physical dimension... permeated even my own physical dimension. Like jelly, shaking to the point it'll pour out its juices, poppy or wildly, in bitter-sweetness.
That's what truth is also like; it will find its way to the light, will not be bound forever. What is hiding in the darkness will not last long on holding its lingering power.
And, on the last day of August, a part of the truth is what she had told me. And I was a jelly. Though, the feeling of such doesn't belong to me. Emotions exhausting throughout her mouth-pipe with different shades of red in her face and bloody-shot eyes, those emotional data were sent to me, that it also became like mine.
In the last day of August, she regarded me along with her when everything was beginning to be dire. When we rolled out the dice, not meaning to cast unfortunate, has no choice but to depend on snake-eyes.
Despite the unfortunate and the discomfort passed onto my small shoulders, she relied on me solemnly that I've never felt so honored to oblige to it in all of my days... until in this last day of August.
In this last day of August, thought provoked me to levitate these down into a form of pen and papyrus.
BINABASA MO ANG
Twists n' Scribbles
RandomThese short stories and thoughts of articulated words are a light-bulb on the head, or it just occurred to self while wandering through the road of life. They are very much random, but not entirely senseless. Actually, this is my personal creepypas...
