My spirits are down. And I am sure things are bound to dip. But I pray it not happen. For if it does, the sky will darken.

I dunno. I hate it when things turn out this way. A whole world between us. Yet there's no sound from my handphone to assure me that things are fine and dandy. I hate it when things turn out this way.

It just suddenly hit me. After a whole humid day of immersing my face in the green book of compulsory article reading, and finally having completed the harrowing ordeal of 4 weeks of reading that thick Kim Wilkins novel, that I realised, I am all alone. All alone pounding away at my computer. It doesn't sound too good. Laughter and music streak the night with merry making. That's what I hear above me. A received message on my phone about a great night out with some friends. I see pictures of familiar faces smiling in groups and I can't help but to feel that pang of gnawing envy in my guts. No one around to even talk to. No place to go to. Perhaps I'm just a little weary from a whole day's work. Maybe it's just the awful stack of assignments that i've got to plough through. Perhaps that's just stress. It magnifies lonliness i guess. Or any other negative feelings for that matter. My coffee cup's empty now. My work does not seem to diminish. An early class tomorrow. Yet I can't be in the right frame of mind to rest. Burnt out brain.

Dried toads all stiff from the many days after dying in the sun and looking black and dead and smelly from their maggot eaten bellies that grown sucked to the ground you've got to yank it up so that it makes a squelching pop and you see more of them dead amphibian friends streched out in a sun tanning position black too and dried like those little animals you find collected in a box for chinese medical purposes.

Five of them unusual habitants to the back balcony and now left with one, for four died in various positions in the sun that their carcasses hardened and cemented to the ground that they couldn't move but just as well cos they're dead toads.

Dead toads i tell you that left one survivor behind to fend the impending autumn and then winter and then who knows how long more might it fend for there is not to be anymore flies to be as food for its weak and hungry tongue to stretch out its pout to eat and fill its skinny belly which will soon turn for food for maggots if it does not live properly.

Only when the rain comes wetting its soothed skin will it then spin its energy stored during the dry times waiting and stoning and it will leap as high as a form of attempt to escape its hunger but only to find out that it's a cell death waits upon them in patience.

It charges upon the doors with its white belly to escape or as a form of suicide?

Then you get to see its tired breath heaving from its throat inflating and deflating and eyes hopelessly staring into yours like glassy marbles, scared to face hunger and desperate to run and confusion to its whereabouts for it is after all a place unfit and strange for an animal like it to be.

And now it stays alone in the hole in the wall where hopeful drips of dampness will help to keep it sane till the next rain comes and it will try again once more to leap free.

But to where shall it leap for there's not a wall high enough to get over and that's where the confusion takes over from where it came.

So remain it shall in its death cell till the cold and dry rips its life off from its clammy skin and ribbed sides and joins upon his friends all dried up and dead in a sun tanning position, black and stiff and stuck to the floor in a suction from its decaying belly.

FORGIVEN

Into the dimly lighted space
I knelt and prayed for soulful grace
How cold and stark and dark it was
Yet warm I felt the father’s voice

Whence I came a sinner’s hole
I fought my demons manifold
Words I swore and souls I tore
I bore the greatest guilt of all

The words I dread yet ought to say
Swam from my lips with shame
And under my skin my guilt displayed
My soul I wished to tame

Poised with welling beads of tears
The father’s chiding words I feared
Yet gentle was he who said to me,
“My child your sins He has forgiven”

The blackest sin my heart has told
Taken from me and crushed in the cold
And now I walk embraced by God
My heart new once again

Trust has become a word to me now. A loose word that prostitutes people into divulging their deepest secrets. Brothers made out of what you think were strong bonds from the dripping nights of beers and talks of life and Beat and everything else that comes with the word "sex", seem to breathe out darkness into your loved one's ears as a challenge. Why so? Could it be my treasure is so precious that ropes out the beast in my brother? I am sorely disappointed. Enough said. Trust will never be such a common thing for me ever again.. Fuck you asshole! Thanks for trying to fuck up my life. You're a true friend indeed..

Yet again I am pounded by a thousand and one questions, all fists against the bones of my face, about how I am going to resolve this state that I've webbed myself into. Apparently, I was regaled the truth about such strong emotions of love for one whom was supposed to be The One. To wait in vain would be an effort worth the whole while. And now it has died? Just like that with the blink of an eye and a shift to another continent has changed a mind so drastically. And now, the truth surfaces again. I was supposed to be forgotten. I was asked to scoot. Little did I know I walked on with a tiny string hooked behind my back. I'm pulled back in. Truths should always remain unhidden however painful it must be. Now I'm stumbling. Stumbling in 2 different directions.