Like Playing Scrabble with Yourself on a Rainy Night
A bent old man walking amidst jeepneys roaring by, wearing a surgical mask with hearts on it.
An old lady who lives with a man and a cat, no longer caring for life.
A crazy derelict drinking rainwater from an eight-ounce Coke bottle, wearing an ivy league sweater.
The sound of a spider being killed at 6:38 in the morning, with the cat meowing in the background.
The sight of the galvanized iron that serves as the neighbor's wall, rain-wet and streaked with rust.
The sight of a prescription filled, but still the sound of complaints filling your everyday.
The package of a duvet you just bought, exactly the right size and exactly the wrong color.
A stack of books and a Venus de Milo on the corner, waiting for a home that's never going to come.
Peeling walls and water stains on a rented space.
A pair of shoes in the corner, because he bought his second bottle of gin for the day.
A speaker on the table, playing music your ears no longer comprehend nor care for.
The sound of rain.
An old lady who lives with a man and a cat, no longer caring for life.
A crazy derelict drinking rainwater from an eight-ounce Coke bottle, wearing an ivy league sweater.
The sound of a spider being killed at 6:38 in the morning, with the cat meowing in the background.
The sight of the galvanized iron that serves as the neighbor's wall, rain-wet and streaked with rust.
The sight of a prescription filled, but still the sound of complaints filling your everyday.
The package of a duvet you just bought, exactly the right size and exactly the wrong color.
A stack of books and a Venus de Milo on the corner, waiting for a home that's never going to come.
Peeling walls and water stains on a rented space.
A pair of shoes in the corner, because he bought his second bottle of gin for the day.
A speaker on the table, playing music your ears no longer comprehend nor care for.
The sound of rain.
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