Remember me
When we shared cookies
In the blanket of the meadows.
Remember me
Whose likeness is made manifest
Burning carbon to ethereal glow.
Remember me
As the morning dew rests
And the smoke of cooking oil rises.
Remember me
When I served you bone marrow,
Soup so tender and invigorating.
Remember me, then
As you swallow it whole,
The love and the regrets
Remember me, then
As days grow older
Smelling of the same lunch.
Remember me, then
So the lonely days feel brighter,
Embers burning in the kitchen oven.
Remember me, then
In the marrow soup I’ve made,
Love instilled in your bones.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 11:19 AM UTC
Two little things.
Rice and Adobo.
Hearty as the radiance
Of freshly baked bingka.
Tell me your day,
If life went your way.
No sorrow is to swallowing.
Neither is it permanent.
Tell me little things.
One, two, or few.
Don’t count each.
Just let them be.
So when darkness befalls.
You always have something.
Two little things.
You, and your little things.
Apr 25
Apr 25, 2026 at 12:20 PM UTC
Old evening light
Greeting the windowsills.
Tethered by the door,
A good night’s whisper
Willowing upon the halls.
A warm pillow soaking up
The salty rivers of your cheek.
Of days that once belonged.
Of hours you cradled in your arms.
Of lullabies crumpled in your throat.
How many pages have you bound
From tears and wary hope.
Of words left in charcoal
Smeared upon the stained satin.
Of spectre fingers interlaced
In between yours and the sheets.
Of a moment made beautiful
And utterly destructive.
And washed away it has.
Flowing to the sea,
White foam, dissipating,
Of sodium tasting enough
To savor one last twilight.
To flip the page is a step.
Just over the cockled paper,
Pristine pulp, waiting for your touch.
It anticipates,
Watching the evening light
Cast matte shadows
Over your blackened sockets.
It waits for you.
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 2:46 AM UTC
Sing me a dream.
A story beyond soil.
Just above the blades
Into my vast expanse.
Infinite world
Sunken by seas
Waken by sun
Grown from thought.
Imagine the draft,
Whose sense dries.
Tears fall and cry
As the moon falters.
And as you wake
Amidst the grass,
Blades striking leather,
Pain, Manifest.
Wonder braces skin.
Haze fills expanse.
You’ve been here, have you?
In this once sung dream?
In a world full of sun,
In your eyes, risen
Just above the sea
Of haze and burden.
And when all settles
Beneath the still legs—
Carried burden and change
In this restless life,
All the streaks of dawn,
Of warmth made seen
Across the huddled trees
Whose branches dance,
They will disappear.
Just shy from your lids
Slowly drifting up,
Pain, Manifest.
A prairie beneath sky,
Adorned by memories
Of last summer’s tenderness
And fleeting expectations.
The blades grew longer
When you were away
Chasing the light streaks,
Sun toying its settler.
That dream has sung.
Story beneath this soil.
Below the roots of trees.
Into this vast expanse.
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 6:50 AM UTC
Night doesn’t end.
It just loosens its grip enough
to let me believe I escaped.
I fall asleep like someone giving up—
knowing it won’t last,
knowing I’ll be dragged back out
in a few brutal hours.
I wake up soaked in cold sweat,
heart kicking my ribs like it’s trapped,
lungs forgetting how to work.
For a second—longer than a second—
I don’t know who I am
or why I’m still here.
The dark feels crowded.
I swear there are hands in the air,
weight on my chest,
voices pressing into my skull—
but when I reach out
there’s nothing.
Nothing is worse.
Every night is a warning.
Go to sleep,
because you have to.
Wake up,
because you don’t get a choice.
I already know what’s coming—
the crying that won’t sound like crying,
the screaming stuck behind my teeth,
the way my body shakes like it’s dying
even though it never finishes the job.
Time stretches cruel and thin.
Minutes bleed into hours.
Hours rot into morning.
The sun shows up like an insult,
acting like I survived something.
I don’t rest.
I wait.
I wait to wake up afraid,
to feel pain without a name,
to carry fear that has no source
and still weighs everything down.
Sleep isn’t peace.
It’s a promise
that I’ll wake up broken again.
And I do.
Every time.
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 6:47 AM UTC
I met someone today.
Well-dressed,
Eloquent,
Mindful.
He spoke of poetry
Like it’s conversational.
His words breathed roses
And pierced like fires.
Sat across from him
Was another particular man
With eyes as baggy as the moon
And a resolve yet to flash to embers.
A peculiar tool hangs by his hips
A worn and chipping camera
Whose shutter screams of light
And of the truth beyond a lie of words.
Another man comes in.
Clean, neat, with a keen eye.
He spoke little, never had to
For his hands stood still as stone.
Yet they were graceful,
Precise, and cutting-edge,
Who heals scars too big for love
And lives too soon to die.
And I wanted to be like them.
The giants who stand toe to toe.
Breaking the world as it is
And making it whole again.
I wonder where they came from,
Whose faces bear exactly mine
Like once children we were
Before the sun had set upon us.
Somewhere in the universe,
I was once like them.
But that universe is here,
Cold, despaired, and unrelenting.
We knew it, so we shared beer,
Exchanged words, laughs,
And occasionally the realities,
And we enjoyed it.
And as clock struck midnight,
We all said our farewells.
I knew each and every farewell.
By heart, and by memory.
To hear them one more time is a gift.
Much like the talents I once left behind.
But they belong to someone else.
Someone behind the silk-velvet curtains.
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 9:02 AM UTC
Make her your muse,
Let her live inside your thoughts,
A constant whisper
You never want to silence.
Let her hair be your drawing brush,
Painting worlds and gliding slowly,
Sketching dreams
Across your skin.
Let her touch be your language,
Spoken without words,
Felt deeper than breath.
And let her kiss
Be the place,
Where every day
Finally ends.
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 8:28 AM UTC
Two little things.
Rice and Adobo.
Hearty as the radiance
Of freshly baked bingka.
Tell me your day,
If life went your way.
No sorrow is to swallowing.
Neither is it permanent.
Tell me little things.
One, two, or few.
Don’t count each.
Just let them be.
So when darkness befalls.
You always have something.
Two little things.
You, and your little things.
Jan 28
Jan 28, 2026 at 7:47 AM UTC
Smile darling!
Smile for the cameras!
Give them your wide, crooked grin!
Your white teeth so glimmering!
Smile darling!
Smile for the cameras!
A frown is bad publicity,
And a smile spreads positivity!
Smile darling!
Smile for the cameras!
It's not just your mouth,
Your eyes! Makes them sparkle!
Smile darling!
Smile for the cameras!
I know your cheeks hurt,
Why not laugh it off to ease the pain?
Smile darling!
Smile for the cameras!
I know you're tired of faking,
But girl, you signed up for being a star!
Smile darling!
Smile for the cameras!
Look so happy!
Till you don't know who you are!
SMILE!
SMILE!
SMILE!
Until that's the default,
Letting the world know you'll manage,
And smile softly at them,
As they ask you,
If that world of yours,
Is still holding up,
And nowhere near
Crashing down.
Jan 26
Jan 26, 2026 at 8:00 AM UTC