Night life is sporadic
death Gumaca seconds
of vacuum slowly then
briskly looming booming
noise thunderous oncoming
trucks buses tricycles
reach an overwhelming crescendo
then nothing cycling in
mind-numbing repetition
Morning inundation of
jingles utter flagellation
timed to the barking of
bitches pigs chickens
staccato pounding haunting
consciousness breaking early
shadows piercing my sun
rising to abstractions ending
with a whimper not a bang
change is no Change at all.
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