I’m a Sadhu

Every time I take that same road to Cubao, I wrestle against time and the internal conflict inside myself- there I see “me” together with my parents ambition to for me and all these things are falling apart against me. It is a fever that wants to let out but I feel that I’m too weak for it, as much as desire to love, I have forgotten how. There is too much selflessness in love that makes you forget yourself and also selfishness that makes you forget of others. Every time I witness the everyday monotonousness of my life, I became one of the gods and sadhu fluttering the living testament of how great a god like me instituted to this world the boredom. I’m a sadhu who carries himself like a victory.

There is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the tiny hands of the clock says Bukowski- and the same imaginativeness of his poetry is running through my veins every time I looked at myself and senses my pasts and that are everytime that I failed to be has become my shadow of regrets that I tries to hide. Consumed with the fuel of myself in every same morning of resistance, I see life as the basking of the sun which shone its beauty like the oily flowers sways with the blow of oily air- everything becomes slow and indifferent.