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Nonsense

The Manifesto

I don’t do mush.
I don’t do Yang or the variants – kayang, loyang, peyang, beb, bebih, bebek, bebeb surebeb, hun, bihun, hunkwe, … Matur nuhun wae yak.
I don’t do needy and whiny just for the sake of pleasing the male ego.
I don’t do textbook romance. Soul-less poetry, overplayed top 40 evergreen love songs, expensive gifts, candlelight dinners.

I do me. I do late night conversations in a language only we know. I do silent stargazes, moon watches, and shooting star searches.
I do giggles, homemade gifts, spontaneous phrases and street-side stall dates.
I coexist, not co-depend.

I’m done with cookie cutters.

I’m going on a road trip.

And the ad does not read drivers wanted. Hitchhikers are welcome. I can drop you off along the way. For those with the same destination, you’re more than welcome.

By and.i.try

corporate slave by day. poet by night. rock chick by default.
eats cupcakes with a sip of nonsense.

One reply on “The Manifesto”

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