Sunday dinner? Tension haywire

I hate Sunday dinners.

I hate having both my parents at home.

I hate sitting on the dining table.

I hate the pretense.

I hate the fake amusement.

I hate Sunday.

Most especially when the 'family' is together.


Why have a family dinner when the "family" does not exist?

Tension is in the air.

Just right after dinner.

Ex-lovers gone haywire.

On loose.

Dumb folded.

Hearts all ripped apart.

We are of a Broken Family (original)

I came from a broken family.

though not literally but substantially we are.

My parents are not divorced.

My parents are not annulled.

My parents are not separated.

Well... at least they are not in a literal sense.


The only thing that they are, are:

They don't sleep together.

They won't go home if the other is at home.

They always fight.

They don't talk.

They don't consult one another.

And the love they before had is no longer available.


One of them doubts the other.

One of them critics the other.

One of them annoys the other.

One of them condemns the other.

What one does to the other,

the other does the same to that 'one'.

Our family is of a broken family,
though not literally and legally...
but that's just how it is...

and this made me broken as well...

Trapped (original poetry)

(original)

Vast plains, taciturn wind,
raging sunlight....
sitting over the high grass
a woman tarnished over age
sat quietly and blankly.

What joy could it be
to travel across these plains!
To a direction afar up to
where the woman stares.

Where high golden grass grow,
insects hum its silent song,
leaves falling over the river's stream
and talking creature, living
to their life's extreme.

Places of different sceneries,
people with different stories...
Thus, making the woman sob
over the feeling of remorsed envy,
that ignited the blue flame
found deep within her
sole....