Davaoeño

The first slippage was drastic; kind of fell out of favour too soon for just a single utterance of a minor jab. It will sting for some time, no worries. There is no playing safe when stakes are high; like a fish caught in a line without nibbling baits of any kind. Time to time, and time again. Time to take my head for a spin, forlorn; all sorrow and sweet. Between two hedges of a burning tenement, we go and grow, and we watch the moon spiral out of control, secret scarlets, letters of eld, chopped liver and spleen and all. When an old acquaintance says hello and you notice his little growth spurts were more than defence mechanisms for his soft insecurities; softer hearts in exchange for leanness; preposterous notions of strength, ponderous to pause, exhibit the sensitivity, take notice, take leave, take heart, absent brain.

Love is the risk we take for living. Love, the offspring of wellness. Take heed, take heart, absent brain. Take two, or three, or ten. Take it all, whatever you need; I have plenty to spare, but none to give to. The little moments of every day conspires to drift away from me; no matter que.

So, for posterity, I decide to embark on this singular and intentful journey ahead, in lieu of the permission provided to me by the gifts of struggle, etched on to me such that a brand of sacrifice would be necessitating tattooed upon me, transmogrifying my essence into symbolic gesture. And if the journey falls short, I have something to be fond about still. The lessons of effort shine upon me, not for lacking of trying, to be fair, but of poor judgement and terrible mismanagement of the affairs of my affection. Pity the journey is short, I could stretch this agony out and hammer it home, dotted in the very midst of my gravitas, as a mark of proof of indulgence. "Here stands before you, a soul to squeeze."

Whenst mine humanity errs, the shine focuses is where mine divinity forgiveth.

But if I succeed, and I do expect a measure of success by any metric, then all is a foregone conclusion. I stand at the precipice of my future perfect, grabbed within an inch of every fibre of my being. To pretend anything otherwise is acceptance of loss.

This is the pretender's journey; of searching solace end; south of sight; east of hope; manger's keep; children of harrow; a far night's fair; upon a full moon's impasse; crow's roads intertwine with crossroads in their time; seas apart, together again; two worlds beating as one; infallible, indefatigable, defiant.

Because I need to know: I will; maybe.