Kitch by Araw Sun
It hit when the sun was blue.
Not knowing white from black, happy from melancholy, circles from triangles.
I heard you speak, so softly, gently, seducing and sincerely.
“Inaantay kita, kala ko ayaw mo eh…” – not exactly but it moved me.
Not knowing white from black, still I said no words. You grew larger.
Your taunting face so angelic, so fucking angelic – oh so fucking angelic!
(This I know white from black, that you didn’t bring your signature long black nose
6 string instrument)
But you carried your signature smile and it moved me.
Not knowing white from black – again I said no words – again you placed your weight on me. Your small frame body so frail, delicate and precious.
Mute, I pressed you towards me. Not knowing white from black – oh FUCKING HELL!
Your unkempt hair blocking my sight as I held you tightly and lovingly… (I thought I said a word?)
I felt golden scales, like that of roman guards, covering you
As I cover you more with my hands. The size of my palm covering your breasts
The size of my other palm covering yours…
And not knowing white from black. Happy from melancholy. Circles from triangles.
You heard me speak so softly, gently, seducing… and sincerely – called for death’s name. Twice I said it! And on the third time you were not there. Of all names, why of the freakin’ devil? You motherfucker!
If only I’d knew white from black, I am choosing you.
If only I knew happy from melancholy, I will choose you.
If only I knew circles from triangles, I wish you’d choose me too.
And when I knew white from black. Happy from melancholy. Circles from triangles
I was gasping for breath… “Ki… Ki… Kitch… Kitch…” – exactly Kitch I said with conviction… My head on the ground. All I heard was Kitch
– exactly as I knew reality from imaginary I said Kitch. As I knew reality from imaginary I said “I had to go” – to my brother.
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