Withdrawal Symptoms

You know those withdrawal symptoms, right? Sad to say, I find it extremely difficult to write something light and informative. I suddenly found it difficult to FEATURE write. The kind of writing I grew up with. The spectrum of my writing capability is now stretched to its farthest extent, which only leaves two probably options: technical and literal.

Granting that our teachers feed us with blunt conceptual theories, I can’t blame me for developing a hunger on epistaxis-inducing words. To add, me trying to get away from technical writing equates to extreme rhetoric. It’s either, talk in the futuristic language or use the words powdered all over the shelf of great literary names.

As for this blog, I realized that my fascination with my capability to procrastinate is not leading me anywhere. I ditched the idea of a profit-oriented blog twenty minutes ago. I recognized that the reason why I started blogging is to open up an avenue for me and my endless opinions. After all, the premise of blogging tackles about self expression.

And so, with this in mind, I’ll do my best to update my blog and my thoughts. We have to keep the rust away. As for the usage of the allocated space, there’s this poem I thought of last week. Random ideas after I saw a couple of girls teaching a Badjao Kid to smoke. Feel free to critique it. :)

Cancer Stick

I could keep that memory
forever.
Uneven wisps of smoke
billowing from the thin stick of death
she twirled around her lively fingers.

Persuaded and unarmed,
she puffed her first.
I watch her struggle; holding her breath
and letting the white gas escape from her
pretty mouth.

Desolate and not used to it,
she wrinkled her nose
but still...
the spirit of nicotine entering
her pallid nerves.

I laughed.
Amused
with her innocence.
"Go on! Another try."
Her eyes welled with doubt
but she presses the cancer stick
back to her lips.

How does it feel?
To be
in between her fingers?
Suffocated with her
lovely lips,
engulfed with
her every breath.

There, there.
She's puffing up o's in the air
(I can see she's not trying hard)

I got her addicted,
hooked on cigarettes

But not on me.