still learning

an amendment to my last entry:

a cold cocoon is hanging on the branch of a dead tree
with youth as its only weapon..
pink clouds, babies smell like butter, rainclouds and pigs,
tadpoles and bats, harmonics..
confusion sets in..
it either grows blind and fall or see the pain too soon..
echoes..
in bloom..
just a cocoon..

shit, woke up late today.. hardly ate my breakfast and
forgot to get a dose of my ear-splitting, nerve wrenching
music courtesy of my new cd that i scored from mang kards
( a muslim friend), rushed to work just to find out that my boss
is absent and there's nothing to do, and worse, our office ran
out of coffee! think that's all for now, gotta have my lunch so i
can get back to the office... and sleep.