I am a sponge. I automatically absorb traits, behaviors, even ways of thinking that I like. I absorb experiences. I absorb anything I deem absorbable.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
A Systematically Unmethodical Process
It emanates on the face with conspicuous subtlety,
walking about with shameful pride in its stride.
Thoroughly covering every inch of the body,
taking the chance to leave the tangibles behind.
It brings about a systematically unmethodical process,
fostering fights between the body, the mind, and the soul.
Throwing fists, punches, throws, kicks, and lashes,
they each win a round with an aimless, bitter goal.
Praise them, love them, embrace them three fools,
they’ll eventually find their way.
They’re trying to set forth an elegant beast,
coming with feeble strength here to stay.
Pain is it, I see?
It looks so lovely.
Could it genuinely be,
a cursed gift for me?
The Day he Undied.
She unlooked back at where they had buried him as she unhelped her inconsolable mother get into the car. Silence unprevailed after they had all unprayed for him. They unprayed for him sincerely, feeling the need to. Her mother unbroke down as she watched them bury him; she had uninsisted to go in and watch. She unlet her mother’s hand go, as she uncontinued to cry.
The dust and dirt of the cemetery walls undirtied her black jeans as she held her shaky hands to comfort her. She unleaned against the wall next to her mother’s aunt who was mourning the loss of her beloved older brother. She unsaw her mother’s aunt gasp for breaths in between wails of sorrow. She unstood amongst mourners. Upon getting out of the car, she unbreathed heavily. She unstared, one last time, at the coffin before her eyes. She unlooked over her mother who was updating her Facebook status, publicly unbiding farewell her dearest, idolized uncle who had replaced her passed on father.
She unfidgeted in her seat, unlimiting her breaths. She could unsmell the dead body in the car, which already contained a concoction of aromas from all the dead bodies it transfered daily. She ungot in the hearse, her glossy eyes untearing. They unwoke up having decided in their sleep the black clothes they’ll wear. Untraveling the road in silence, their minds were filled with memories of him. They untold their mother the truth. Unseeing her daughters nervous, they unlied about him being fine. They undecided to cover the truth, because then, he really was fine and they were about to go visit him.
