marami- rami akong di gusto sa aking sarili. Mga mata ko'y mahapdi, nagmamasid kahit na ba'y nakapupuwing

dumarami ang mga araw,
dumarami ang mga gabi-
dumidilim ang mga panaginip,
mga engkanto'y nananabik,
natututunang sa mundong ito,
marahil ako'y hindi sabik.

mga boses ng tao ay humihina,
palayo nang palayo-
mga mukha ng tao,
palabo nang palabo.
nararamdaman kong sumisikip ang aking isipan, paunti ng paunti ang mg nilalang na nasisilayan.

may mga araw na nais kong mawala na tila hangin,malimit **** maisip, ngunit dama mo ang hagip.

may mga araw na nais kong tumakbo na tila oras, madalas kung habulin, pero ni minsa'y hindi makaiiwas.

sana ay hindi nalang nabuo ang salitang sikreto,baka sakaling ako'y matuwa sa aking anino.

mga alaalang pilit na humihiyaw, matagal nang nagtago-
panay ang katok sa nakabukas kong kuwarto.

*Tao po! Tao po!

guni- guni lang ba?

mayroon akong sikreto
nakatago sa kuwaderno
nakabaon sa isang pahina
doon ako naglabas ng luha

basahin ang kuwento ko
sa isang eksena sa may puno
nakikinig sa iyong mga pangarap
habang ako'y naninigarilyo

di ko batid kung iyong napansin
panay ang titig ko sa iyong labi
palaisipan sa aking damdamin
kung bakit ba ikay di makatingin

sa tuwing akoy nagsasalita
malayo ang isip mo sinta
nakatulala sa ibang dalaga
ang masdan ka'y impyerno na

ako ba talaga ay buhay pa?

Sabi nila ngayon ay buwan ng mga makata, mga matatalinhagang salita, mga boses na nilikha
Ako ay umaasang batiin mo, sapagkat ang aking mga tula ay bakas ng iyong paglaho

Wakas.

Maraming sulat na pinadala, sa mga taong hindi kilala, nagbabakasakali lamang ako, na magkamaling sulatan ka
1700

Alala ko pa ang mga araw, na ikay pinagmamasdan, sapagkat ika'y isang gantimpala na hindi ko makakamtan

Marahil ako lamang ang naniwala, marahil ako lamang ang saksi, marahil nga'y binuo ka lamang sa aking guni guni

Sabi na nga ba!
Ako ay kulang, tila rosas na binili lamang sa daan, mula sa batang walang mapagbigyan, ako'y napagdiskitahan

lilipas ang araw
matutulog ang gabi

Dahan dahan akong inikot, binuhol nang binuhol, magaantay na lamang sa aking pagsibol
bukas, makalawa
*Ako ngayo'y rosas na sa iba

Tuwing manunumbalik sa mundo
Bawat sulok ng kwarto'y nalilito
Mga litratong nakapako, isa isang naglalaho.

Wala man lang makausap na nilalang
Panay mga bulag na anino lamang
Tila natitisod na mga ibon sa lansangan-
Dulot ng sakit sa kalamnan

Nanghihina, naninibago
Napipilitang manatili sa sariling espasyo
Sapagkat dito, kahit ako'y nagiisa
mundo nati'y unti- unting ipinipinta

hindi lang naitatanong,
saksi ako sa hapunang iyong niluto,
panakot na gamit ay luha ko.

Nasunog ang bahay namin-
noong labing tatlong taon ako.

Kasama roon ang paniniwalang,
bilog ang mundo.

Sapagkat,
sinunog ito ni Ina.

minahal mo ako
na parang asong
sabik sa buto.

kahit tira- tira
ng mga taong mahal ko,
kinakagat mo.

Lying in the ground, entangled,
lost in a thoughtless trance-
there is no need to hide,  
I shut my eyes.
Seduced by the sight of color,
persuasive in its attempt to bridge us together.

We are lured in,
there are no promises,
no spectre of thought.
Remind me its today.

The cold ground beneath,
carrying the weight of my tender heart,
unshackled by the grip of your starving hands; touch me.
Your hand slowly slip under my skirt,
pulling down my sweet intimate.
A sensational rapture,
—loud as the clouds,
a maddening sound.
Envelop the day like a tension film
--desperate to penetrate the savage sun,
Foolish, undoubtedly foolish.
serenade me under the shade, my little fire.

I could hardly breathe.
I suffer sweetly in your hands,
helpless, glued to the ground, frustrated,
annihilated by the movement of your hand,
those fumbling fingers tracing my delicate skin...
I weep your name, my darling !

I hear the world’s lust,
clandestine eyes watching us,  
Ignorant of the world were in.
Ignorant of the world I’m in,
drowning in your gaze-
I witness the world’s miracle-
Its electric than the pinnacle.

my sweet teeth.
what a sentimental thrill to be close to you this way-
gnarling, exposed for the taking.

You go deeper,
reach higher,
my toes curling,
body reluctantly surrender,
hands crawl,
knees start to shudder,
eyes start to water, I cant move.
do you hear me my lover?
I'm begging, whispering,
but this time for more.
blind me again, and again, and again.

I kiss you gently, roughly, then all at once.
The sun boiling at the palm of my hands,
holding me down in prayer,
my screams start to clutter,
body start to simmer,
lights start to flicker,
I keep my eyes shut.

I no longer need reminding.
Keep me alive in this place.

Day is passing
Slowly through my finger tips,
I try so hard to tighten my grip,
eyes have gone blind,
I befriend my mind.

seated next to a stranger in a bus-
hoping to hear from someone else that the day is meant for us

Their words have turned me mute,
denigrating my decibel to a minimum,
cultivating a web for all the voices that were dispersed—
I still haven’t decided if silence is a blessing or a curse.

Thing is no one told me that life is long, and that I have to continue the journey no matter how isolated I was.
No one told me how much I should participate in the creation of my existence, that I should perhaps keep going because no one will ever wait for me

There is nobody

treading the grounds alongside
deserted people,
gambling with faith in such a beastly place,
perfumed with slavery and discrimination;
despair and racism,
rubbing off a scent of alienation,
even that becomes a consolation.

I shouldn’t make this place about me,
growing fangs and horns in solidarity,
show me a world where all this don't persist,
How shall I go on looking like this.

There is nobody

My mind is a sanctuary,
They live and die in my memory,
Every single stranger is me.

Where have I arrived today?
I try so hard to disappear from everyone, that I end up even more lost in my own destination.

How did it become this beautiful?

I crave quietly,
living amongst crude shadows,
never tasting you.

Eyes water from absorbing the light; allowing us to witness pain and ugly in every form of the sun.
Even the ugly becomes beautiful in the eyes of the one who suffer, in his small world where everything seem to matter.

my mind is too loud
but every time you **** me
it moans quietly

The ability to see through people can sometimes be exhausting.
Its like knowing their secret before they even become aware of it.

It's the slowest heartbreak.

I lie by myself,
feeling miniscule next to
a muddy carcass.

down on his knees
as sweet as I could bear
all of a sudden the evening was silent
cloaked with rumination
as if whistling, begging
for me to just say something
the moment I opened my mouth

I was alone

I came too soon, ****.
dark room, bodies howl in rage.
lets pray for our sins.

I wait for the bus,
Knowing it'll never come.
Left, left, left, right, left.

as fluid as wine
the ebb and flow of your tide
resting on my feet

Years end, the
world weeps while our
children play dead.

Best to stay gone, so I’m always in love, or perhaps, maybe just maybe, I eventually will be.
Stay gone my lover and hear the whispers of the sun, braiding our souls to the ground.
Trace my steps, close your eyes till I wake, till I come to you, for you.
Until then, wait till the heavens weep, dance on the dark side of the moon.
Find me dancing with tree’s as I dream.
My calloused hands will find its way to let you inside my skin.
Best to stay gone till I breathe your name or perhaps, maybe just maybe,
you’ll eventually learn mine darling.
Sing to me.
Best to stay gone, so we’re always in love.
Lets leave the door open so we’ll always stay.
I have fallen in love with the wind leading me astray.

How beautiful it is to make love with one self.
I finally hear the music.

What beauty, he had
become my muse overnight
What can I not love?

Baby, I hear you,
especially when you can’t speak,
—-you are most naked.

I used to have plenty wishes.
Tirelessly praying day and night, remembering a time when I was five, knelt down infront of a reflection, a projection of my mom’s addiction, mercilessly wishing for a miracle.

Unbeknownst to the fact that I am the only one listening, and even I find my words inaudible. Flooding my mouth with tears, catapulting down tired ducts, circumventing those delinquent eyes that have seen enough.

I now lay in a bed of flowers, they have found a home in my skin, roots sprouting, making ground, making love to the sound.
Gardening my soul with delectable cries only I could hear, but this time my words are unforgivingly clear.

Flames arousing, fire stirring in my *****, the pleasure of sculpting my own home, a concrete built on fantasy, a reflection, a projection of my mom’s addiction, mercilessly wishing for an escape.

That child remembers.

I carry that day’s scent on my fingers.
Spewing pangs of pain and joy with every recall. I remember relief.
Relief that finally, I am not the only one burning, ashes zigzag their way to the earth, spectators mildly immersed.
I no longer need to pretend that I am blind just to allow myself to see.
A star witness to my own memory.

God help a family on fire.

My father has burned our home way before mama did. A reflection, a projection of truth has ferociously emerged into a play for our very own eyes to feast- we would have never survived our own characters.

Now, I often find myself oddly silent, ransacking my cerebellum, almost an assault to this new found pendulum, prosecuting myself for not wanting more-
for I no longer fear.

That child remember’s it clear.

And for the first time in my life, in numerous occasions, I am no longer afraid to face my reflection, and the very thought that I am a nobody is monstrously enough in a world where everybody is religiously pleading to be handcuffed.

I spread my legs wide like a canvass, waiting for someone to play with, I am still a child whose hands need blessing.

This flower is finally blossoming, delineating pain and joy, emanating an unfamiliar yet familiar fragrance. It’s no longer a reflection nor a projection of mom’s addiction-
I now pray in providence,
making love out in the open.
Sealing all the vocabularies of life, the decibel of truth has finally found its tune in my very own coming.

I have enough.

God help a woman in love,
God help a woman brave enough to touch herself.

I’m reacquainted with one of my many isolated world’s,
only this time I’m not scurrying to flee to another.
Consequently, intermingling them all together.
The natural phenomena of everyday have always escaped me.
It’s almost a betrayal that I’ve only come to know recently what was amiss.
I daresay, I’ve never felt more at home.
I’ve never felt more awash in hope.

A succession of
bodies stiffly multiplied,
the blindmen, madmen!

I live in a dream within a dream,
hearing the sirens of silence,
a human is a being of deciding,
letting go of the morrow...

The joy of awaking in the same bed everyday,
doing the same things over and over again
can be as thrilling as making love
clothed in a room denied of curtains.
I recollect your shame with my fingers,
maliciously sweet from piecing you back together.

I unfold my eyes before the sun,
outwitting your assault at
the break of dawn,
every time I reach for the rosary,
I cant seem to construct vocabulary.

exuding words out of me,
ratifying the subtlety
of love and fire,
how it violently appear’s
out of nowhere.

I surmise the beauty of chaos,
uncertainty and what it teaches,
persecute all the churches
and all their preaching.

I surrender my thirst for warfare,
your lust atoned for my despair,
planting carnation’s in my soul,
watering the patch where
I became betrothed.

Now, my days are distressingly peaceful,
using oxymoron to describe how I feel about Jesus, and yet it has never felt more insufficient.

We can finally make love all morning.

my heart alighted—
years have passed, I finally
mourn my three angels

Flying around all the time has its natural implications. Shielded from trifle’s and indignities that could make one ennui. Now, I’m on ground and my stance seem unstable, positively pleading not to turn skyward.
I’m meant to endure or perhaps embrace it all from both vantage point. The ground seems frantic, distressing, deafening, and I’ve avoided it neatly for so long—
the firework’s and funeral’s. . .
I’ve always felt early on that wherever I am, amidst chaos, calamities, God and I will always have this strange privacy. A delirious quality that has kept me geared for battle.
Today, I am terrified— interestingly,
a great show of cordiality.
A sense of newness quietly furnishing my immediate sphere.

Avoidance, elusiveness, does not heed to my soul’s manner of being. I must love forcefully through hysterics, endure or perhaps surrender to hurricane’s when I can no longer prosper, even if my heart reside’s in decrepitude, alas, I must tread carefully, banishing all fear or perhaps in spite of it— whilst also embracing the despairity of it all, for it’s in the knowing that one is without the other.
My life’s duality is an imagined reality I have constructed to feel invisible, thus I have become invisible to the world and my ambitions. A color-blind chameleon.

In fear of what?

No one is trying to fright me but my own chatter, this morose prattle teetering from one interlocutor to the other, as if I’m running away from something only to find—-I’m singularly trying to decipher my mind’s meander.

Sit me alongside a tree, on a bench, swallowing the noiseless repetitive air of a shy afternoon— I’d be joyous.
I don’t need much and perhaps this dire needlessness has kept me restless.
Always searching for something grand to arouse my spirit ‘cause if not this relentless truth that surfaces frankly, violently, everyday that life is indeed blissfully pointless—
will be quite persistent in its attempt to build a cathedral within the halls of my mind. Provoking a cacophony of musings through courtship.
So I nest. I refuse to surrender the attributes of the wind.