thank you for the shadows

on graver matters

2011-08-15T09:31:00.001-07:00

there exists

a great divide-- nay--

three

for as long as the cracks

get deeper and wider

i will stay still

Under

2011-07-17T09:29:00.000-07:00

Your chest is the soil
my head yearns to be buried in,
your scent,
the smell of my decaying heart.

You smell of Autumn--
of the faint crackle of leaves
   falling
      on pavement,
of the sun's rays
   as they ease
      through lonely branches.

If you have taken the time
to seep in deep enough
      through my skin,
         you would know
            of my fondness
               of Fall...

                     ... but,
                         I wonder,
               (as fond as I am
             of fiery reds
           and bright oranges)
       will I ever be as fond
... of you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They don't like me--
your worms.
They wiggle through
the sockets
   of my eyes
      as the blood in my vessels

         e v a p o r a t e s

                  with

                     each

                        dying

                             pump.

I wish they grow to like me.

Else,
my bones will creak
every now and then--
creak
until you inevitably absorb
the final particle
of my lifeless marrows--
creak
'til I am nothing.

So let them grow to like me.

Or crush them.
Crush them with your will.
Else.

___________________________________________
___________________________________________
___________________________________________

My bones
tremble
   under the layers
      upon layers
         of your being--

            for I am fearful--
               for I am afraid.

            Afraid that
            when
            F
            a
            l
            l

            t
             u
         t   r
         n   o n
         i s

     w i n t e r ,

        your Autumn scent
   would become
a mere memory

f r o z e n

in ice
and stone

   and
      my
         bones

   would just lay
      underneath
         the unfamiliar
   with half a brain
      in a tattered skull

filled

          with but

                   a single

                       unhappy

                                thought:

                                                        I was never fond of you at all.

                                                   (your scent has made a fool out of me)

               ...so love the wind instead,
                    for you deserve all the certainty this world can offer.

Excerpts from a page of my blue notebook (June 29, 2011)

2011-07-16T01:49:00.000-07:00

Urges

Your touch has rendered itself foreign to me,

your voice, now a faint reminder of nights without light,

of restraint, and not of flight.

Acts of intimacy have pushed me away,

and you realize

that you're in love

with nothing

but my physicality--

with flesh that could fade

so easily

into the soil.

... or have you realized this yet?

When day is night

2011-06-12T15:16:00.000-07:00

You are the reason
why the bags beneath my eyes
seem fully packed by daybreak,
never to be emptied,
never to be reduced.
I pack them
with all my patience,
all my love,
so that I may run
away with you
into dreams
within dreams
until the stars decide to fall down
and light the city up
with only our words,
with only our memories

--and once they do
(the stars)
--once we jolt upright
and see the dark cityscape
loom
before us,

I would already have kept
our dreams
within dreams
inside the bags beneath my eyes
along with all my patience
and all my love (for you).

And when the sun comes up,
we simply
dream again.

Oh, before you go...

2011-06-06T06:24:00.000-07:00

It was nighttime, at Hanson's party, and quite tipsily, I asked you to come with me outside for some fresh air. I was crazy as hell, and you were pretty much tolerant of it. In fact, I was almost sure my near-drunkenness entertained you.

"Aaaaaahhh, I look so fat in this dress, don't I? So much for eating one meal a day," I laughed, taking a few sips of the vodka I had with me. You laughed along, and then smiled and said, "Nah, you look amazing tonight."

"Pfft, you lie! I look like a zombie!" I gave you a dead stare and limped towards you. "Brains... brains..."

"Haha, quit it! You look more like an epileptic than a zombie," you laughed.

"Hey," I blurted out, "what would you do if I really died? Eh, eh?"

I laughed. Only hearing my own laughter, I looked at you. You looked a bit startled.

I reviewed what I just said only to realize the gravity of the question-- I mean, sure, we were friends, but we weren't close enough to talk about concepts as serious as death, let alone mine.

"...I meant, from a horrible fashion sense. Death from having a horrible fashion sense."

Awkward save-- if it even could be considered a "save"; the damage was already done.

We both fell quiet. The silence made me feel the alcohol in my blood go down. It also made me feel more uneasy.

Finally, you whispered, smiling, "For what it's worth..."

"I'd cry."

Right then and there, I knew I loved you-- and I swear it wasn't the alcohol.

But that was the last time we ever talked.

... you kept your word.

Despite

2011-05-31T15:02:00.000-07:00

Your palm against my cheek--

perhaps I was special.

Perhaps.

How long have you known?

You inch closer.

Your eyes locked on mine, you whisper,

"Is this not what you want?"

The curve of your smile changes.

You cannot be who I thought you were.

"... what you have always..."

"... wanted?"

You inch closer.

Our noses almost touch;

I feel your breath

evaporate

upon my skin.

"Come, now,"

you whisper--

your voice,

ink,

your words,

paper.

I hide my paper cuts with a smile.

You grip my arms,

ready to pull me in,

and I see you

morphing

into a huge blur

right in front of me,

and I pull away,

wiping my eyes with my blouse as I did,

and I try to run from you,

but your blurredness has crept upon everything,

and I stumble,

and I remain on the floor,

and I look at myself--

I, too, have become a blur.

"Are you alright?"

you ask,

not far behind.

I tremble,

struggling to find my composure.

"I..."

A slight pause.

I see your silhouette plop down next to me.

"I..."

...

The blurs

vanish

as I find the calm

in the rivers

that flow

down

face

"I love you--"

I feel the wild thumping of my heart,

"perhaps, even too much--"

it beats too quickly

"to even desire you to,"

and too painfully,

"in any form,"

as if I'm out of breath,

"requite."

as if the air is being forced out of me,

"I hope you understand."

as if I'm underwater,

"I can only wish you the best,"

as if I'm sinking,

"And with that being said,"

as if I'm drowning--

"You cannot be happy with me."

as if I am dead.

Thoughts at 4am

2011-05-28T12:49:00.000-07:00

I cannot force you to like me--

and not just like me--

I mean, like me like me.

I cannot, and I would not.

I refuse to, with all my heart.

But the beauty in all this is,

that if,

by any chance,

you happen to like me too--

and by that, I mean like me like me,

then wouldn't it be a joy to know

that we fell for each other

without trying to make the other

stumble, beforehand?

Hide and Seek

2011-05-27T06:56:00.000-07:00

As I trudge along this stretch
of bright lights and hidden stars,
As I ache with every step
along this road that, once, was ours
I glance across the distance,
looking for a sign--
a figure, a shadow,
a soul bound to mine
Through windows, I peer,
inconspicuously, of course
Through coffee shops, through restaurants,
through boutiques and clothing stores,
I go through each one--
not a minute off-guard,
'til my vision and sanity
appear to have been marred

After going round and round
for the fourth or fifth time
I give up my search,
my heart, and my rhyme.

But that's when you show up.

He Sent You to Console Me

2011-05-19T03:01:00.000-07:00

You are the wind
that blows upon hilltops and seasides,
quick, yet gentle,
with the occasional strong gusts
that free me from the temporal.
Caught in the whimsical gush that is you
is I,
the single-faced flower,
the one with but three petals left;
Take them, take them all--
make it so that parts of me may still be with you
until the darkness engulfs what remains of our souls.

In this world that withers away all light,
the chilling warmth your spirit emanates
is all I need

until my sun decides to come back.

Lupa

2011-05-16T09:44:00.000-07:00

Naiwan na ako ng mga kahenerasyon kong minsa'y nakalaro ko sa langit-lupa.
Alam kong hindi ako magaling-- alam kong parati akong nahuhuli't natataya,
pero ok lang yun, dahil laro lang naman ang lahat, hindi ba?
Ngunit heto, naglalaro pa rin ako ng langit-lupa ng mga matatanda.
At heto, ako pa rin ang taya.

Nasa langit na silang lahat, nasa lupa pa rin ako.

On Shuffle

2011-05-13T12:32:00.000-07:00

I find it odd-- odd how the song that used to reverberate all throughout the mountains and mountains of my inner despair (diminishing them into mere mounds of indifference, or maybe even of satisfaction) would lose its value and not even, even the slightest bit, echo.

I listen to it and feel nothing. I smile, sip some coffee, and turn the page of the book I'm reading, as if not one strand of memory-- of affectionate longing-- was ever tied to the pleasant melody resonating in my ears.

And then the next song plays.

It wasn't a charade; I have forgotten, I have forgotten.

oooovalooo

2011-05-06T09:49:00.000-07:00

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Among

a universe of circles,

I would always be the one that is slightly elongated.

With my stout width and inversely proportional height, I am nearly an oval.

I might even be one, for all I know. An oval-- horrid and alone, expanding every time I ache.
But ah, such petty things go by ~~unnoticed~~, unseen,
unheard of, unfelt. Nobody
would know that I am

out of place.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She and This

2011-05-02T10:02:00.000-07:00

She held

his face

in her hands,

and with her thumbs, she explored

the creases

and lines

drawn on each corner
of it.

With her strength,

she carried the yolk

that pained him day by day,

and with her voice,

she soothed him,

as water did to the wounded.

"This is how I love," she said.

But it wasn't too long

until she began to notice

that her voice

turned him numb

and indifferent

and that the yolk

grew murderously heavier

whenever he was around her

and that the lines on his face

were etched

so deeply

by no one else

but her.

And so she left,

and he was young again.

"This is how I love," she said.

poltergeist Raguel

2011-04-27T03:12:00.000-07:00

i get the chills, sometimes,
in the middle of the night.
but tonight is different--
tonight,
he visits.

picture frames fly;
glass cracks appear
right across my face,
disfiguring

dictionaries fall
off dusty shelves
with pages
turning
and turning

i see
"alone"
and
"death"
and
"monster"
as i watch the pages blur

and i whisper,
"ah, Raguel knows me all too well"

he chuckles in response

the lights continue flickering
on and off
'til it rains
of glass and sparks

yet i am rendered
unscathed,
left wondering why i'm not dead
why i have not been dead
why i still breathe the air
only the pure ones breathe

and so i take
a shard of glass
and strike at my heart

"we are what we bleed,"
he says
and i watch
as tar oozes out
of my chest

but

i'm

still

alive

and with a snap of his fingers
he vanishes,

laughing,

at the sound
of my beating heart

Stranded (in a fast food joint)

2011-04-22T23:10:00.000-07:00

Another arrives,
and another,
and another.
(Through the doors,)
they keep pouring in
like heavy rain
in June.

I wait.

A quick glance on my watch
tells me
that I've been
waiting
for
a few
months
now.

The only raindrop
that mattered

never came.

I am drenched in unimportance.

Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep

2011-04-22T10:38:00.001-07:00

A universe of blue.
Upon this canvas
lie feathery whispers
of whimsical white--
A moment of aerial suspension--
the warmth of an embrace.

Close your eyes
and brace yourself--

Gravity.

Quick!
Close your eyes, I say!

Eyes wide open,
you desperately reach out
for the strands of ether
hanging
from the drifting whiteness above
as your frail body breaks--
falls--
plunges through entire oceans of thin air.
Your hands,
they slip right through them
the threads dissolve
into nothing.
You smile.

Close them, shut them tight,
now, before it's too late!

Air gets forced out
of your already suffering lungs,
and,
in an instant,
your heart stops beating.
You did not listen.
You gasp for air.
I warned you.
You did not listen.
You gasp for air.
You did not listen.
You smile.

You zoom past
the layers of yellow and gold
of white and blue
of orange and pink
of navy and black.
A faint melody
slowly crescendoing into a familiar rhythm--
You gasp a final time.

I told you to close your eyes.
You didn't,
you didn't.
You chose to see.
You chose to remember.
This, you will regret.

You jolt upright.
Inhale, exhale,
lost in deep
yet vague thought.
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
A familiar picture then paints itself before you:
pitch black with a splash of blue (and only blue) light
white silk curtains caressed by the subtle wind
the night sky looming over the cityscape right outside your window
blankets of periwinkle carefully draped upon your silhouette
soft pillows of white all lined up around and underneath your delicate form...
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
You smile.
A trickle--

You close your eyes--
it's too late.
A whisper,
a request--
it's too late.
You smile.
A trickle--

her soul thirsts (windows)

2011-04-22T10:20:00.000-07:00

straight in the eye--
she liked it
that way.

the way she liked
the faint glow
of airplane lights
superimposed
against the blues
and the blacks

the way she liked
music
that can echo
through
and across
thick chambers
of hearts
broken or bound,
hardened or purified,
easing
muscles,
strengthening
walls

the way she liked
freshly-cut grass
as soon as its scent
would bind her
to the earth
below

the way she liked
wine
at the brief moment
it rolls
on her tongue
and
temporarily
numbs
it
with all that it promises
to be

the way she liked
the warmth
of an untouch;
sufficient
yet surreal,
intimate
yet restrained
(genuine
and
unenforced)

she liked it
that way.

no--
not anywhere else
but
straight in the eye