Pictching. Fast pitching. That's what i do. And i'm learning. And i'll remember this day, the day i pitched so fast. I shall remember Guang Hao's hooked flick, Ian's smooth windmill, and the batter's getting striked out in my mind's eye. And i'll throw lightning into the catcher's glove. Coach once told me to kill the catcher's glove. I killed the hand in it. Look at Ivan's hand. It is blue and black all over. As in, a total change in colour. Everywhere on his left palm. Blue and black. Two beautiful colours. And i made it happen in my pitching. I like that. One day i'll be better than Circuit Man (that's Guang Hao, the Sec 2 RGS pitcher's call him that because he taught them circuit).
Am i a master of double entendre? My poems are all symbolic, double meanings are my forte in literature. Even this blog, letting go, reminds me of pitching. Don't control, just let go. Beautiful.
I like things beautiful.
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