• Roach Dandy


    My room is a hotel.
    Guests are dancing in every nook and cranny,
    smelling like spices badly mixed,
    with the tiny sounds of their tip tap tapping.
    Don't be tempted to touch the smooth cabinet handles
    or you'll bear witness to their secret parties
    and they'll scurry away, some kamikaze bombing,
    flying towards your face, spiky feet grazing.
    Their tap tap tapping turns to rap rap scrapping,
    leaving behind Yamashita's secret treasure (1) in the Penn (2),
    but only if you believe in the famous words of Rizal. (3)
    "Children are the hope of the future"
    and hopefully their multitude of children multiplies your hope
    Tenfold.
    My room is a homeless shelter
    though really, it’s mine and I own the place.
    Or maybe they do, in the similar way
    to how a man who lives by the train tracks
    declare their makeshift cart house
    MY SWEET HOME.
    These unholy pests of filth
    have made my room their cradle.
    This does not make me want to burn it down less.
    Shy, calm down, you tell yourself.
    Soon you'll find the motivation to kick them out
    instead of making blunt, vomit inducing complaints.
    And Yamashita's treasure does not exist;
    the man who dedicated his life searching for it is made of loony.
    Demo uso da.
    My room is starting its own rebellion.
    Tip tap kamikaze it's getting crazy.