As fleeting as it seems, angelic voices singing in my head, my inner demon, the monster under my bed screaming at them from the inside,
Just slam the door and go away I don’t need this schizo shit, I’m going freakin nuts thinking of yesterday, now there’s nothing more than empty sheets from where you used to lay, your fine ass body coconut creamy and mango scented clit,
That’s fine I’m better damned on my own with my bipolar mental gauge in order and my OCD beating off in my head to that melodic voice of somebody I used to know, whom I used to love fucking so long ago,
That angelic voice with her mouth gagged by that demon under my bed. Her halo hanging off my bedpost. Another fallen angel earning her pearly white wings past the climax of midnight. Just like the twilight of Boracay’s ghosts of lover’s past. Manila Dreaming on such a cold winter’s day.
-Mark Adam Publishing 2017