Death Tendencies

I was in the shower.
I found myself crying at the
Immense sadness my soul has
Been thriving in.
For a ridiculously long time.
I sat in the corner, on the floor,
With my clothes on. Tears
Came for no reason.

Im so tired of it all.

.

I so fucking love you/

Until our deathbeds

How do we make sense of our lives? Our emotions? How do we connect the pieces of our lives to make one sensible picture out of it? Even in abstract, we try to atleast crack the codes that seem to appear in our presence. What about desire? So what about it? If there is cessation of desire then suffering will also cease. But what about the drive? Drive and desire are cousins atleast having a mutual concept.

How about subjecting yourself to a totally different environment? Exposing yourself to the things you haven't known. To the people who most likely hate each other for no apparent reason.

How bout in the case of loneliness? Without the presence of your lover? How can you even live every night missing the best person you ever have fallen in love with?

Baby tell me about different men, whats life gonna be when all you had were broken relationships that fatigued you till your vulnerability turns into a machine that spit oil of nonchalance?

Please explain your health. Your health and your issues with yourself. Diagnosing yourself with some kind of made up of clinical depression?  How do we even think of a million things and forget to drink milk.

Baby i miss your milk.

Now honey, please open the subject of skills. Am i in the middle of rediscovery or anything at all? It feels like it. It feels like i have to trudge the dark path of uncertainty to go to the lighter side of the road

After all, dear reader, all the codes and hints and the clues, until our deathbeds,
to the grave until the end.

Poems for the Lonely Night

The inside of a beach smelling
tent is hot and humid.
We force ourselves to sleep
but couldn't.
The dark of the island engulfs the
the romance.
Instead, fear was present in mind
and in our hard bed.

I cant sleep i said. I touched his leg.
Yes me too. He kissed my forehead.
It was 2am and the waves are still loud
and unsettled.
I prayed for sunrise as I heard strange
noises.

Boats were passing with nonchalant
no nonsense.
We flicked our flashlight to say we're present.
We kissed and stared at the nonending darkness.
Crabs and strange monkey sounds can be heard from a distance.

That island asked me what was I made of?
I said Im made of feather and all things soft.
That island showed me who the hell was boss.
I shivered in fright as I could fight no more.

Now baby i said whens the boat gonna take us?
Theyll come in a while baby lets cuddle.
He hugged me tight and said its all settled.
We ate a banana till we heard the roar of struggling motor.

Superfuckedfright.

Death of a Studio

A sekyu asked me, "mam para san yang picture na yan?"
Ahh. Akutuban ku ne. Bawal pin itang gagawan ku.
"ah sir wala, mangwa kumung litratu bantang padala ku la kareng kamag anak states, amimiss dane kanu ing Angeles."

Uita, tiluy ku ne ing pamaglaram bantang enaku rugu panabi keng tutuki, nung midalan ku pa keta.

This pic is just meant to keep something symbolic that I would like to think I was truly a part of. Anyway, its a simple picture.

Just a simple picture.
Not really meant to make people remember friendships.
Or totally awesome conversations.
Even good music.
I mean totally awesome, most of the time underrated, "this-is-the-shit" kind of awesome music.
Where the bosses let me play fuckin Franz Ferdinand burstin out the speakers.
Where
Them people who let me into the studio and listen while I sat on them amps.
Or even theoretical know hows to live a life.
Not really a picture to let you rememer past lovers.
Or brawls.
Fucking brawls.
That thang we smoked.
Heaps of liquor over cigs.
Even tears that were meant to be cried at the dark corridors because this place was full of men, mostly men.
We dont really try to pull up drawers of memory that taught us a thing or two about life with this picture.


It is just something that was there when we didnt have any place to go.

aint no ground zero

At work, somebody carelessly let out a comment aimed at me, it sounded like this, "you're nothing but a pretty girl." After I had made a mistake, panic ensued, disorienting me.

My whole being, my whole intellect, my whole education was insulted by this personal attack. All my life I knew I was more than a pretty face, at times I don't even consider myself attractive, couple that up with depressing weight issues and lack of self esteem. For somebody like him, (to fully describe this man, for some reason is fatally and obviously gay to many, assumes that there is an indirect correlation between looks and intellect. For a man like him to assume so must have been a victim of such stereotyping to fully understand and manage to cripple me for a day with that honest, simple, uni-phrasal comment as if he has sized up my being and also relish in the idea that he has made somebody feel stupid infront of some people after. He might. Or he might have felt guilty.

It is not a direct reflection of me. That comment can say more of his life than of mine. With my anger, I have driven myself in the mode of  reflection, to attack myself in angles I have never known before. Questioned myself, if I am capable of the job given to me, do i really look stupid infront of people at work?

So, these might be some answers I have retrieved in the whole two days in anger, frustration and self doubt:

1. People will think in their most convenient way, that is to hate those who they dont know to feed themselves of illusory self esteem that can be damaging and fatally destroy their relationships with people. Because understanding each other's differences takes a lot of guts and emotional intellect. Not many people can do that.

2. Even though i had made legendary (discriminatory and entirely below the belt) responses to him in my head, I wouldnt dare to say that in the future because I dont wanna be a running bad version of myself. Remember DESIDERATA? "As far as possible without surrender, Be in good terms with all people."

3. But a bit of kick-assery wont hurt once in a while. To ward them off bullies. Anyway, ever since time immemorial, the strong win and the, well, the more stressed out goes to the grave earlier than its due date.

4. Its not cool to even think of a catfight "he's gay thats why" backlash. Singers and self proclaimed activists for the rights of the LGBT are sensitive enough to make a song about that bullied gay boy. While the rest of the victimized, bullied individuals wait for their heroes in tight suits and unbelievable make up wearing a song to represent their grief-stricken lives.

5. I wanna tell him once to just shut the fuck up.