At the sink washing the dishes, I plugged in my Ipod and stuff it loosely in my shorts. Detergent foams up as I scrub the stubborn grimes, the itch began to creep along my soaked and wrinkled hands. I continue to stare at my family's leftovers reeking from the accumulated pile in the sink since 6pm. It's 12:59am now.
Perhaps to avoid the strained tension in the living room, I decided to do the dishes tonight convinced that it would be more therapeutic. Still, I can't seem to refuse the sound of my dad bawling out loud for god's sake at us. I hate to say I love to see my sis being bawled at, cuz she haven't prove much to be a decent pride of the house. But I get awfully repelled when I'm hinted as part of a bad crop. Dismay spills inside as I take these statements tacitly without retaliation. I know economy isn't looking up; dad is at battle with the world. He became berserk against reason & logic and battle takes place before our grounds, our home. Communication is so strained as we fight that love will keep us together.
Every day, this household prays.
How long will it take before Love prevails?
p.s Thank you Radiohead for your company tonight, you have been a beautiful embrace. Thank you Lord for being all so mighty at times like this.
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