Sunday, May 9, 2021

Imbalance, A Brief History of

Related Stories

Fishermen in mining community harvest 12,000 kilos of bangus in 4 months

TOP PHOTO: GAMAWA is a 21-strong fishermen’s cooperative in a mining community in Surigao del Norte Republic Act 11535, declaring...

Santino’s Supreme Slice & Pizza Pedrico’s at the U-Franchise discovery day

U-Franchise Group will be hosting its Virtual Franchise Discovery Day on May 11 at 2 p.m., where top franchise...

Ode to Obrero poets and fiction writers

History has delegated the 1st of May as Labor Day, in recognition of the workers of the world. But in...

I.

2 a.m. is odd

- Advertisement -

for a doctor’s appointment

but the phallic paintings help

with the anxiety. “He treats famous men,”

was the receptionist excuse

for the schedule and interior.

“You’re in good hands,”

did not assure me.

 

The door opened,

‘is it my turn?’

Let this grimace

be the first symptom.

 

II.

I touched the foil

it emerged:

magnificently molded

cleanly cut

smooth on the edges

grainy on top

 

a surface for safe passage

a match for exclusivity

a dare for lucidity

 

But before I swallow:

I stop.

 

Do I deserve this grand

gift of chance, or will I choke?

 

III.

Go on,

flush me.

 

That’s your desperate attempt for normalcy?

Remember, that’s half a grand down the drain.

I may have taken every remnant of joy

You used to have. But it is I that gets you

through the door. So go get another

from that orange bottle. No matter

how much you deny it, I am your elixir

 

for life. But also

a ticket for death.

So why not chug a dozen more?

 

IV.

 

Over                                     |                           Dose

 

Once, I drank too much.

Twice? No, thrice

what was prescribed.

 

I tried my luck

on a fast pass to finality,

a controlled time of death.

 

Then a doctor’s greeting:

a thin plastic tube

through my nose,

cold charcoal,

down my stomach,

ended up in a glass jar.

 

What of my tickets?

All to the yellow

trash bin – clinical waste.

 

V.

 

VI

The brain is the ignition point,

the stomach – a flask, the blood its fuel,

all conspiring for hormonal fireworks.

 

Do they not know the mind of a Paperdoll?

One misguided thought, shove, or spark

could send wildfire back to the brain.

 

It’s a circumferential path.

We always burn

ourselves best.

 

- Advertisement -

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

Just In

Fishermen in mining community harvest 12,000 kilos of bangus in 4 months

TOP PHOTO: GAMAWA is a 21-strong fishermen’s cooperative in a mining community in Surigao del Norte Republic Act 11535, declaring...

More from this section

- Advertisement -