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I wasn’t listening, mind you

I was looking for a poem

but you offered cigarettes. They were better.

You explained something about death or dying or some sort of shabu paraphernalia or cat food,

I won’t recall anything, coz he was looking at me and I can’t say no.

We don’t say much these days, do we?

There was a discussion about putting up a business in El Nido.

What else can we trick them with? Yes,

anything. When writers start talking about money and stability on a Monday evening in Sarah’s,

it touches too much imahen.

I was about to sing

after catching some keywords bloated by the help of herbs,

but you confessed something while she was on the bathroom. It wasn’t important,

but I listened almost too hard.

(Images from @archillect)