open hailing frequency.

INT. FUNERAL PARLOR
what seems to be a funeral parlor seems like a course enlistment session in a local college.
(there's a long line of people waiting to see the casket).

until finally his turm comes,
he stands on the isle where his friend's corpse lay on the casket.
he looks down.
his eyes express a remote sadness. it has been ten years he has seen that familiar face.
he maintains a light heart.
all this people around him. around his friend. he thinks it was a good life
though he still wished
he had a last round of drinks with his old pal.
he exhales deeply. and wished from his thoughts for the departed.
but not a goodbye.

INT. LATIN AMERICAN RESTAURANT
a cook almost gets stabbed by an intruder in their kitchen.
five to six gang members charge in jumping to a person from the restaurant.
four friends from inside the restaurant then jumps to the gang members.
and a riot ensures.
the gang loses.
the friends... this is their home.

minutes pass and the police ensures precautionary measures.
to an avail the night finds a closure for all parie involved.
the gang affiliate who ensared the fight redeems himself in humility.
though drunk, he begged for mercy.
on his knees he apoplogizes inclusive of his saints to the people from the resraurant.

the friends.. awed upon by the situation.
are satisfied.
they are more alive than before.
approximately two hours before the fight they were struggling not to drink beer
and complain or whine about how fucked up or tawdry their dramatic lives are in its present state.

now they know. god loves them.
now they know... eyes are again open.

.......

now where was i?
i must've woken up somewhere trying too much.
my mouth tastes like i licked the connectors of a nine volt battery.
i do feel better.. i can undo with a control-z.
now somewhere here in the attic,
the place where i should be can be warm. or too cold.
seeing most faces turn up to my nightmares, and its fine.
and hence i cant seem to rant about using a social network like facebook.
hell awaits ive never been so sober,
now it seems i can feel it more if i havent slept enough.
last drink i had gave a parotitis, 3 days later im back to being nice.
hey perhaps could begin again,
whereas i once halted
giving a train-wreck thought visiting my dead friend.
he smiles with her on his breath.

finally played after a rotten millenia or so.
and now we can say, that part is no more,
the part of that music
of the drummer is long been over.
'tis time for his other endeavors.

come to think of it, in memory

when will it be assuring to have that peace of end?,
i think
just be a stranger, a phantom
unpart with that.. like a whatever.

like a time in your life you walk down a curve
trying
not staring at dogshit you might step on.
walking up to some stairs
taking your time, not catch your breath.

i love this day
i'd love to hate it too..
there's yet still to tell you.