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a name 6d
i am mush, in a pouch, hiding from the rain

could it be that it is just the hidden pain in growth that keeps me from seeing
we are to be marvelous in end

or do the caterpillars in cocoons feel pain
as their bodies dissolve
and live on conscious
with nothing but their stored energy
and their miraculous, thinking minds

stewing with memories of their youth
gaily, living in their past
before they decide to climb to their future

i have been well too acquainted with my shell
or chrysalis, or prison
i forget why i am here
and where i am
but i know
i put myself here

it is to grow
but is it for good?
am i a moth, or a butterfly
i often wonder
in reprise, i distract myself
i'll be eaten by birds anyways, if that is any consolation

will my wings spell out a name
or someone's initials
or a skull with empty eyes
will i be orange, with red
or white, with nothing
will i be blue

i don't think i will enjoy my emergence
i don't know if my fellow caterpillars will
i know that i didn't enjoy my metamorphosis

i only know that i have enjoyed my past
and i was in excitement making my shell
we do not enjoy our future
it is not certain if we will enjoy making it

but i do hope, when time comes
i'll have a fellow winged friend to circle around with
and i do hope, then in our hard-earned freedom
we enjoy the flowers we previously couldn't reach

i know, in time
i will face the rain once more

i hope, do hope
that it will be in confidence
knowing i am among them
in the sky
7d · 37
dannyboy loveyou
a name 7d
to whom that left me in the rain
i'll see you again, dry

to them who shared a drink with me
in the coffee houses with ***** fridges
i'll see you, thirsty

to the moon that turns red, and the stars that hide
i hope to see you brighten that splendid canvas

the butterflies often tell me
you have to worry this time
but to the ones that say
your day will ****
oh, i'll see you in a nice noon

and to the books that tell me
don't worry, you'll be sharing the sun with someone
sometime again

oh man, i'll see you

and to the changing roads, the moving bridges
aging guitars, young beer
you'll be annoyed by me, soon

i'm in love with you, stranger
would you like to join me
there is only so much space, so much time
i haven't met you yet, but i like your shoes
i like your umbrella
i like how you wear your tired smiles
i'll see you, hopefully

and to you's, all of you's
the one who shared some drinks
and stared at butterflies
in cold mountains
stared at sunsets
and velvet undergrounds

you'll know where to find me
oh, all of you will see
that i see you
Nov 24 · 25
change
a name Nov 24
i haven't touched you in a while

i haven't stared at you for a while

i haven't been kissed by you for a while

i haven't dreamed

i haven't cried

i couldn't cry

i don't know if i can dream

i don't know if i can stare at you

my skin will crawl from a single tap

i don't know how everything changed

i haven't wondered yet

because despite everything, i feel within me

i haven't changed
a name Sep 15
he came from a small asteroid
and learned so much more from this big messy world
than those who have lived in it

how does he do
when we have to face hours without sunsets
and fall apart in the night

how he does
when we make ourselves the strangers he saw
and pretend the world we share is our own, only planet

how he has done
when we would rather throw our rose's glass case
to the floor
when we remember her thorns on our skin
and complain about the shards of our own doing

he has the innocence to believe the sheep was in the box
we would freak in our bigotry that there is only the box
and nothing within

he is an alien
and so were we
we covet his life
for we in our humanity
effort to strive to his simple omniscience
the opposites to our situations
our own baobab trees
growing within us

and i wonder
why was the price he took
to go home
what is the price we pay
to make ours
to return to ours
to be us

shine like star,
you meteor, ephemeral

i must need to leash my sheep
Aug 27 · 53
smile
a name Aug 27
i saw upon the sunrise the smiles of a happy day, among faces half asleep

who's smiles of relief for a new day is darkened by the realization of a tiring one

yet i saw the children

who sees outside the bus window only the beauty of splendor
the beauty of the sky in its easiest to be stared

i wonder how they smile, and how we dont

they speak to me more than the crowd's launguishing wait for their next ride to tiredness

their faces says, smile, because we can

smile for the memories of people who forget

smile for the happiness in a world full of frowns

smile because you can, and it is better than nothing

better than saying, i am to be tired

better to say, i will tire myself with a smile

i smile because it is okay to be in this world

i smile because it is okay to face sadness

i smile because we want happiness, and the smallest smile can be the happiness of lifetimes

smile because it is beautiful, and it is best to be beautiful with the sky

smile because you can

smile because you should

smile because it is okay
a name Aug 21
the sight of the Theeman Hotel strikes within him awe, as high as it's thousand leagues onto the sky

and the emergence of the slime mold in her rotting log, strikes her with ease

they live two seperate lives, in sameness

but with him, he has given to the city

and her, the forest

he lets go of a plume of smoke, resting besides a digiphone booth, before another construction shift

and she meditates under the trees, wondering the same wondering as him

memories, what are memories

he sees no other memories but the crust of the city life bared onto iridium concrete

and she is aware that the trees learn and remember, and only onto death do they reveal their nostalgia

the cities tower alight with the memories of nothingness

while the woods tower with memories forged from nothing

and he sees the growth of the world made by it's starers

and she sees the eyeless grow towards a fire in the sky

what would be the world we would have made if we didnt remember

a dinge heap of a city, or an austere forest

unaware of the memories piled around us

but beauty forged among its thick, for true eyes to see a crowd of makers

he returns to his post redirecting an endless traffic

and she tends to her fruits in a life full of new
Aug 13 · 52
bookmarks
a name Aug 13
it has been a while since i've touched pages

for my mind has been busy with the matters of flesh, not of the wind against a face staring at the passing world in its nicer sunsets

i take two akidins every day to survive

my survival linked directly to a happiness craved by my flesh

my flesh that needs to get up, needs to eat

but for you tonight, i opened plath again

my mind, my art, my love, i am reading again

and i felt alive, in my struggle to understand her

and i opened gibran again to see where i left off

where my bookmark of your photo marks my favorite of his prayers

could it have been that i really was alive back then

that i had love, and toil, and music, and words

filling up a mind that understands

a mind now struggling to stare at golden hours

after waking up on dark ones

if only, i keep hoping

if only i was a third of who i was

capable of everything, everywhere, at the same time

knowing what summer clouds sounds like, what paintings smell like, what sleep looked within palpable dreams

could it be, i can return

could it be, a mind that wishes for what once was, can be well once again

could it be, it only takes memory to know where rock bottom is

my love, i missed you dearly
i whisper in solemn prayer

i can love you once again, with music, art, poetry

eye, and ear, and subconscious

i've missed you dearly, and i love you for staying

the day will come that my love for you comes from a complete me

my newest boomark for ariel is an empty biperiden pill page

and gibran will keep your beauty, in page 21

here is to you, and the letters of sanity
Jul 16 · 68
me and the devil blue
a name Jul 16
i understand

I DON'T UNDERSTAND

what is with you, you've been here before
you've been well and you've been unwell, but you got yourself out

no, you got yourself out. i'm still me

you're still you. we're still him

it doesn't make sense. he's changed. now he's us

it is. its not like we had a choice.

i know we did. i know i should have resisted going in him

i know you didn't. i know, because i am here. remember who you are, what he is.

i am tiredness.

and i am the devil. what now

we did nothing wrong, right?

i... don't know. i don't know what he's doing. whether its us, or him, or you, or him

okay, what is it now

...

...

he stepped on a ****

ach, is that really it

yes, and now we're here. tiredness, and the mad innate sense to ruin everything. there is blood rushing into his legs

we don't have to do this

i don't want to do this

what are we to do

what have we done before

what have we not

we havent tried stopping lately.
a name Jul 1
it doesn't seem so bitter when i look at it, the sky
after it was so angry that it blotted out the sun for an eternal three hour six o clock
it wasn't really that bitter when your droplets landed on my head
it wasn't bitter when the cold of the wind blew my umbrella away

i look at you know and think
you've been through so much
just to be angry where i'm at
you didn't have to take it out on us
i know you just had to
i know it's alright
i know it'll happen again

but i look at the trail of cirrus above your wake
and i see they are tinted pink and orange
i see that they are yours
they are your soft fingers on my blue
and my calm after everything

you are telling me
it is okay
to feel this cold
to let go of the weight of our nature
it is past day
and you left us with your spirit in the sky
making the sun beautiful

and you are showing me
that i could still love you
that perhaps
what happens after
could still put us to ease.
a name Jun 30
you swear to me
and curse at me
when time came and went and i fed your lands

and time came and you hit me with your burning pitchforks
how dare

well then, it serves you right
to reap what you sow
you planted your soot seeds on my clouds
and your harvest is fire

and burnt soil
and flooded homes
why would you complain about my absence
on the forests you ruined

it serves you right
i am the rain, and with me is my temper
it singes when i'm gone
it ruins when i arrive

and don't you complain
it serves you right
i am the rain
i do not take kind to those
who demand the sun
Jun 26 · 40
high with laughter
a name Jun 26
what is this feeling
you're all alright
and i am floating away
from the cold of the floor

and the heat of the air
is a blanket of life
not the punishment of fatigue
not the reminder of toil

we didn't bring anything else
besides 10 dollars
a boat ride ticket
nachos

but you'll all be arrested
by the buzzkills
if you reveal your face to them

what is this happiness
it is real, if it is
and there is no effort in hiding it
there is no pain behind it
there is no shame in having it

i am glad for you
i just know, this will last enough to be worth it
hey, my man, i love you
hey, my love, i missed you
hey there, stranger
let's be happy together
Jun 16 · 344
musi
a name Jun 16
all of the world
is out of tune
and our music is still beautiful

and our beauty comes not because we are perfect
harmony is all of us
trying
and failing
and becoming beautiful

knowing we are not by ourselves
a single song
but others pitching in
and making accidents
in symphony
a name Jun 11
wonderful, it was, to be young
to hold the sun on the palm of your hand
and the blue of the sky
out of your eyes

they say we live to rot and age regardless
seems, though, that the world ages without us
instead of us growing entropied

still
sleep on the bus like a tired old ant
wake to find your headset bud under your seat
become a child again, as the sun shines from headlights
and the blue of the coming night and the fleeting forever of a day well spent flies into your ears and skin

and you'd think instead
wonderful, it is, to age
to know how much you now can remember
and re-remember
remember your universe's wonderful bus rides
and park walks
and well spent pennies for ***** ice cream
to see your universe smile back

wonderful, it really is
knowing you held the world
and you were too
Jun 8 · 681
sweet nothing
a name Jun 8
have i ever been so afraid to lose you
or me

no, all those sweet nothings
are not nothing
they made me fall for you
because you fulfilled them

and i have never been so afraid of losing
because it would really be nothing in the end
if so
a name May 19
it is raining within the city expanse

and my friend is in the back seat of the pedicab
and i am huddled besides the driver seat, my knee recieving raindrops
and it is flying between an alley
and a highway

and when we stopped on the red light
it rested on a street sign

its wings were yellowed
not the yellow bestowed by loving creation
the yellow of light and flowers that serve

but the yellow i know
of homeless men's hopeless teeth
and street side gravy noodles

of rusted flying pigeon bikes
and industrial waste flowing from millionaire castles

of sunsets in this city
this veiled in a day's smog
or its century's smog

you are not hopeless gravy, however
you are a butterfly

how my legs dared to jump off the vehicle
how my arms wanted to reach up
how my hands wanted to clasp you gently within a chamber
of my spindly fingers

how i could only stare and wonder
within this pedicab
within the center lane

could i clean you off this city's mess
could i perhaps, knowing you were not born stained
but born pure
but born loved, lovingly, by creation
how i accuse the world and it's homeless millionaires
of tampering with purity

i knew i wanted, and it made it seem i could
to stop the world
and clasp you gently
to get you to the nearest wellness

and i hope i did
for it was only what i could
hope that the rain would be gentle on you
dear butterfly

this rain calms me
i hope it would be enough for you
it is not for me
i am stained, but my wings are not
as pure as yours

if my friend the rain is not enough
know, i will jump off this pedicab still
to help you
fly

away from this city
Mar 15 · 103
gaslihgt
a name Mar 15
i feel like i am torn
if mayonnaise is a good condiment or not

i take a bite of a piece of lettuce with a smear of mayo and i'm like

this is ******* disgusting

and i have it on my rice and salmon and i think

this is the most important part of the meal

and i realize

that mayonnaise is the worst ******* thing in the world

for making me think it is good and bad at the same time

- j. caesar
update: holy ******* **** lemme tell you about vinegar
Mar 4 · 77
herm crab
a name Mar 4
i live in a coconut
in some beach among the garbage patch
there are fish bodies here and there
but no fishermen to collect them

i lived in a skyscraper before
and i fed on the clouds
it made me fat with summer rain
and eventually came
tropical depressions

and i had lightning friends
and hail brothers
and cold friends
and hard friends

and i missed the train i built myself
and years i took and told myself
that train would have burst into flames
and **** both the crowd in the left
and the man in the right

oh i told you
there's bad out there
in the sea
or the sky
or the train yards
but dont stop
oh god, dont stop
there's so many questions i have to ask
now in the present
all to explain my past
a past i can never go back to
but never leave

how could it be

i need to know
how



i was trampled down by everyone and this life

and a few offered their hand to pick me up, but they slipped away by the haste they had

and i knew it was my fault for being so slow

but i couldnt help to think

why they were going that fast
Feb 20 · 186
stationery
a name Feb 20
how long has it been?
its not like we have nothing to say to each other still
for i know you've been to paradise
of yourself
and i've been to hell and back
without leaving my room

and do we still see the same sunset above us
will you still smell the same flowers i've planted
can i still recognize your handwriting
on your rough boutique paper
with petals on its fibers

and i've been playing that scene in my head
again and again
the sail of a beached yawl on a peaceful boracay
how we wanted to brave the tide to board it
keep it to ourselves
how we were one in that fantasy

sail the world
you have, and i will never
but doesn't mean i have no stories to tell you

how long has it been
it doesn't matter
i like your stories of travel and paradise
i have stories of home, and family, and hardship, and cheap twenty peso milk teas

how it didn't even matter to me that you were gone
only that you weren't here within me

it doesn't matter now
it matters that i can reach you
beloved
i have no more empty letters to give you
inspired by movie clips, and youtube edits
Feb 5 · 74
you for ya
a name Feb 5
read me slowly
because we haven't got the time
to rush things

i get a mild high
from looking at you
and i pull my lips closer to

the taste of your cherry dr pepper ***** robitussin
makes me
makes me
makes me

HOW ARE YOU
SO
BEAUTIFUL

HOW DO YOU
COMPLETE MY STORY

OH HELLO MY LOVING
FOREIGN
ARTERY
HOW ARE YOU

HOW ARE

how is it
that you make me so happy

how is it
that you conjure from me
hendrixian poetry

how is it
with every drop of you
makes waves
in my brain sea

you slur my words

and make me ramble

some broken quotes
that mean galaxies

some broken

some

um

and you make me ramble

oh you

oh you

and every time

and everything

you just make sense

and you just make sense of things

and things make
a lot of sense
even if it's often senseless

oh you

how could you when i'm all alone you're far away and when i'm one and lost you're hard to reach and when it does arrive it hurts to move but it makes me so glad to have you anyways for with every turn it puts me in a

trance to write another word without a past like particles from the edge of the event horizon evaporating the toilet bowl with its shining twin and

it makes me stare behind this tunnel hoping that the light i'm walking away from is another train to push me forward to the finish line the past will make me better and better in moving forward or it will crush me under it happiness to move along and

forget everything it passes through the trains brings nothing with it but it's passengers looking down away from the window away from the sights they will never see again but me

me i'll let the train hit me and as i sit on its fender bloodied and broken but healing i'll take my time to stare at the world because now you are here and now i'm aboard the train and i have you to help me jump off to where i need to be you are what i needed

what i needed

what i needed

you for me

you for

okay


it hurts my mind to keep you running things

i cant even make sense

i don't know if i'll understand what you and me will sculpt

eventually everyone who reaches the mountains come down to breath the heavy air they need

but you are astonishing

you are energizing

you are tiring

and i'll tame you

eventually, your high will make me float

i'll tame you

i'll tame you for

you for

you are
a name Jan 23
your pink hair would glow in the dark
outshining the red lights we would drive past
to get to the next empty parking lot

with every whip of our heads
the world's air leaves trails of starlight
in this asphalt, concrete, nebulae

you're mysterious
within this dark damp forest
you're a fairy adorned

the streetlamps your sagittarius
the skyline our fireflies
the reflections of the rained roads

our crystal path
to the magic ballrooms

and maybe when we get there
we can get another drink

if we have some leftover
after paying our taxi driver extra
to hasten past the empty avenues

it's 1 am
it's beautiful
i like you
and i'm glad to be outside
Dec 2021 · 479
a reply
a name Dec 2021
tell apollo
i care not
for sweet words
that he insists
to be poetry

i want
his smile enduring
and my days
forever
in his light
- by a bumblebee.

give them some love
and please HePo accept their poem request pleeeeeeeeeeese
Dec 2021 · 73
Two Sentence Horror
a name Dec 2021
I don't care how much she makes me cry, or how much I make her cry.








But I still love her, and I won't let her go.
Dec 2021 · 141
kiss
a name Dec 2021
i'd love to forget the first time we did it
so that every moment after will feel like it's brand new

the wind covered us in a cold blanket
bringing us closer to each other's warmth

there was nothing pretty elsewhere
no sunset
no butterflies
no flowers

but you

and only you
only your cheeks
your chin
your ridges
your lips

and so i went
a slow progression
sightsee and pilgrimage

and i felt riches from every visit
till i reach your mecca

softer than finger touch
smoother than wine glass
moister than tiredness

first with the hesitation
two puzzle pieces with fuzzy edges

but it didn't take long for them to fit

and when the right pair aligned
it formed an image prettier than any mystery

eat your heart out, klimt
no gold can ever gild us the same
than our touch

eat your heart out, botticelli
my venus is fairer than creation

eat your heart out, mansa
i have crossed tougher beliefs
tougher wars
tougher deserts
just to get where i am

and where i am is in the memory of her lips

and where she is in my soul
Nov 2021 · 113
love lasts
a name Nov 2021
some will love you, then disappear
some won't, but you'll love them

and in some way, you'll disappear

but you wouldn't have wasted your time
you'll smile in retrospect, of the times
and so will those you've had

and millions would pass through, not knowing what you've done, but receiving it anyways; what lasts

cities will turn to dust before it goes.
love lasts in the end.
Nov 2021 · 81
if only
a name Nov 2021
if only i wasn't human.

i see the shadow of myself even in the dark of the night
and i think of the cold on my back and the pain of a handful of pills

and i think
if only i wasn't human, but myself
i would be better suited for those around

and if only i wasn't human
prone to god's graceful gift
of mistake, despair, ego, instinct, fallacy
mistake, biology

we're built to last lifetimes of all those
all the pain of lifetimes

and when comfort arrives:
the gifts.
we spend the hours instead in remorse

and as i lay another dead kitten in a shoebox for the garbage disposal
i think

and as i apologize none stop to those who i love
i think

and as i take another pill
and extinguish another cigarette
i think

if only i wasn't.
Nov 2021 · 79
stratocaster
a name Nov 2021
my stratocaster speaks in curses
it says **** and **** loudly
through a cheap tweed amplifier

and sometimes it whispers to me
play me nicely, till your neighbors know
you've got the blues stevie had

and i tell him, sure
let's tell them
you better leave me alone
alone in my noise
Nov 2021 · 199
uknowable
a name Nov 2021
belief sure is for stupid people
and i sure ain't going to school
Nov 2021 · 99
conditioning with tshirts
a name Nov 2021
the things i think of when i put my nose on your gift

washed dishes
light detergent
like your well pampered skin and well cleaned house

slightly rusted metal
dark *** and light *****
like the way you party and the way you sting

sampaguitas, well cooked rice
roses

like the colors of that sky
when the day ended

i am intoxicated by your scent

and i am intoxicated
by your memory
a name Nov 2021
it always comes to us
in times of inconvenience

brand new feelings
from a never ending tree

but how i'd wait for you still, then
i'd never do to another

how it feels is always gone
except for the parts we embrace

and how i'm willing to lend you a hand to shore
when the water's cold again

and how i'm willing to wait on a beach house
till we're finished waiting

for the rain to stop
or just to stare at the waves

how daunting it's always been

but it gives us time to think

you, to take a shower
maybe peace till you warm your skin

me, a million other ways to describe your pearly face
once you're done

oh, please be quick
i have so much to say
but very shy with my skill

please be quick
lest i turn cold too
Nov 2021 · 130
pencil piece
a name Nov 2021
is this what you are? i asked

naughty?

pervy

she smiled. i gulped my drink

i am going to need another drink, i say

why? she asked. because you're thirsty?

sit still. i'm not finished

well clearly you're not

shut up, i said

she giggles

move you hair a little. yeah like that, like it was earlier

don't you like me more when i tie it?

i don't, it looks bad on you

well it looks bad on you too, but you'll have to do it later anyways

shut it, i said

is it done yet? she asked

yeah, here.

i showed her the finished pencil piece. it was her on a pose, with her hair loose

that looks pretty, she said

and i took her by the waist and pulled her close to me. i went for a kiss

oh? look who's naughty now

shut it, i said. tie your hair.
Nov 2021 · 625
slowdance: in a quiet room
a name Nov 2021
i have you in my arms
there's no music, but we hummed the melody to our favorite song
imagining it playing with us in suits and dresses

and i have you in my arms
we swayed back and forth
to the rhythm of our intention
it's quiet, but i can feel the whole world
sing for us

and i have you in my arms
i felt like not stopping
i felt like making this last
last for so long
a lifetime

with just you and me
god, i couldn't believe it

i have you in my arms.
a name Nov 2021
the day's been ruined
the sun was setting
our drinks were finished

when i held you on that little european corner
with no one around

i gave you a quick peck on the cheek
and you told me

kiss me like you mean it
from your heart

and i stood and stared at you
perplexed with what to do

but my heart told me
in the moment

this is all you've ever wanted

so i held you by your waist
and pressed mine mouth on your cheek

and i held it there
i could smell the cologne from your neck

i could feel the tangle of your hair
fight against my own

i could taste the smell of our date
from your slowed breathing

and i held it
until i was finished

and you smiled

the day wasn't ruined anymore.
Nov 2021 · 262
enter
a name Nov 2021
if you know how it feels
know what you have to feel
know what it's going to feel

then please
enter my heart.
Nov 2021 · 71
today ends tomorrow
a name Nov 2021
i'll see you tomorrow?

but love, tomorrow's already here.

okay then, let me tell you what happens today (or later really)

today i will tell the sunset to stay
as it ends another day

today i will tell you you're pretty
as moonlight collects on your hair

today i'll consume butterflies
let them stay in my stomach

tonight music will play
play our 7 o'clock as a movie scene
make it beautiful

tonight i'll tell you i love you
accidentally
as the day ends again

but how about now
today ends tomorrow?

then let me tell you now
i love you
a name Nov 2021
i ordered a bottle of local beer. they served me peanuts on the side.

for a joint this small they weren't one to skip entertainment.
sometimes they would host local bands.
sometimes they would have a dj.
sometimes they would host an open mic. they often weren't funny.

but often they would have just one man managing music.
he sat in the left of the stage, with a laptop and a mixer.
he always wore a denim jacket.
he was always served a bowl of nachos.
he always played the beach boys. at least once every night.

i didn't take him and the music in mind much.
even though i made music myself, i didn't take it in mind.
my business in the bar was always for the drink.
one drink, then leave.
i was a simple drinker.

what i did take in mind, however, is when the music stops.
i know that the rule within establishments was to always keep the speakers running.
the songs would often blend together, and songs that finished cleanly would always have a two second end gap.
no more, no less.

.

.

the music stopped in this particular night.
the group of teenagers singing pop chords halted in the middle of a chorus.
a second later the lead singer was on her phone.
another second and they were talking to the owner.

and after a moment, they left through the kitchen door.
they left their drums and their guitar.

i was one third through my drink.
i still had a dozen or so peanuts.
i called for the bill early.

and after a moment, the disk **** in denim entered through the kitchen door.
he took his stool from the left of the stage and set it in the middle.
he took the band's acoustic guitar and checked its tuning.
after a few moments he strummed away a song.
beach boys. god only knows.

i had no idea it could be played on a guitar.
he was no carl wilson, but brian would have been proud.
an acoustic guitar plugged into an amplifier loaded with reverb.
it saved the vibe of the night and everyone continued on drinking.

.

.

few months later i returned to frequent the bar again.
months before, i tried to quit drinking.

that didn't work, so i returned.
the bar didn't change.
the beer was still expensive.
i could still drink.

but now i'd look around a bit.
i'd stay longer in the bar to marinate.
i'd order different drinks, stay to watch the unfunny standup till the end, stay till the bell rings.
i would even talk to some of those who drink parallel to me.
small words. but sometimes they'd be interesting.

and i'd listen more to the music.
the bands that would play, the mix of the day, or even when they decide to just mic in the radio.
those were the months i decided to study music.
which meant listening.

.

.

the disk **** in denim played his usual set for this one
when he spilled his cup over the mixer.
and the music stopped in this particular night.

that set a few people aback when they heard the cup topple.
then everyone's attention was stirred after the music lagged and his mixer screeched.

but the dj kept his cool and quickly managed the situation.
he unplugged his peripherals to separate his laptop from the mess.
he took the mixer and set it aside, orienting it vertical to dry.
he took a cloth to the drink puddle so he wouldn't slip.

and after a few minutes of plugging in and setting up, he continued his playing.
he operated the mix on his laptop.
the continuing song
beach boys, don't worry baby.

that gave me a little chuckle then.
i finished my drink and ordered another,
so i could listen to the whole song.

.

.

i visited the bar days after the little incident. it seemed like the dj stopped working for a few nights, from what i can tell from bartender gossip and intuition.

i sat on the bar one afternoon and listened to both the radio and the bar gossip.

"yeah can i have one of these?" i ordered my usual.

"-----we didn't expect a reelection, especially since what we heard he done--" the radio blared as my drink was served.

"--he's not gonna be here for a few days, though, so you'll have to ask for your money in a while." the waiter told what looked to be the manager

"--news from california as an earthquake hit the area 12 kilometers from--" the radio blared as a couple walks in.

"hey, can i have peanuts?" i asked as the bartender approaches.

"---but to be fair, his mixer did break, so there's nothing much we could do and all---" he says as he hands me a plate of salted nuts.

i was taken aback. i finally knew who they were talking about. i kept my mouth shut as i listened to the sounds of the room.

"----relief efforts are being pushed as those who are displaced are--"

"--no i really didn't expect him to just leave, but i did know he had some girl trouble or somethin---"

"---news as oil prices skyrocket after the Bank of America---"

"---ehh that doesn't matter, but i didn't think of him as one who has troubles in paradise--"

"----Brand New Deals from the world's leading online market---"

"---still, does he have any other source of income? i thought his music work was just on the side and---"

i finished my drink rather quickly as their conversation went. i decided i've heard enough and left the bar.

.

.

i went around the malls during the afternoon. when night came i decided to go to the bar again. for a few more drinks.

i ordered a bottle of dark lager. they served me peanuts on the side.

there was a local band playing tonight. they sang a few ed sheeran songs and a couple pop songs from artists i didn't bother to learn the names of. it was a steady, casual night, and all the patrons were still and drinking.

i was seated on the left side of the bar counter. on the center was an old man, finishing his light beer. besides him was a teenager, in sketchy clothing, finishing a draft beer. on the rightmost side of the counter was a man in denim, drinking from a glass.

the two right in between of us stood and left, leaving me to stare at the man parallel from me. it was the disk ****, but today he looked like a customer.

i finished my beer and ordered another. i had the guts to change my seat near him. i struck a conversation.

"you're the dj in this bar, right" i said abruptly. he raised his head like he just woke from slumber. in hindsight, suddenly talking to him probably wasn't polite.

"yeah, yeah, i am." he said. he took a swig of his clear drink and gestured to the bartender for another. "i recognize you. You're a regular, aren't you?"

"yeah, i am." i said. "and i catch you a lot. when you mix and all. i like your playlist by the way." i took a swig of my beer.

"well thank you. not many say that." he says, as he takes another sip.

"no beach boys tonight?" i ask

"not tonight, i'm afraid."

"what do you think of tonight's music?" i ask him, suddenly. i took my peanuts and offered to share it to him.

"i think it's okay." he says, as he takes a handful from my plate. "you can tell the guitarist really likes the vocalist."

"hehe, he kinda does." i say.

"that's what they all have, musicians today. Lots of love." he downs his drink and gestures for another one. i could tell he was near drunk.

"what do you mean?" i ask him. the conversation turned nice.

"i see this band a lot often." he says. "i've talked to them, offered to help them mix once. They're good fellows."

"you're a working musician?" i asked.

"look, see how the vocalist makes eyes with the guitar man."

i chuckle. he shared that chuckle with me.

"i'm sort of a musician too." i told him. "i'm not a very good one, but i make music."

"oh, that's nice." he says, taking another sip. "lots of people are musicians, even those who just sing to their children." he says. "even the not so good ones. Lots of love, i say. These kids got ***** and heart to perform."

"and you?" i took a sip. "lots of love too?"

"Ha, yes!" his mood cheered. he stood straight and clapped as the song ends. i clapped with him.

"yes. Lots and lots of love." he says. "D'you think the guitarist and the vocalists likes each other for music or for romance?"

"well, i dunno. Do you?"

"Haha!" he exclaims. he takes another sip.

"well, i make music for the people i like, so..."

"as we do!" he downs his own drink.

the band was playing a slow, somber song.

"well, i'm a musician." he says. "i make music. i hang around in places, bars, parks. i hang out with friends. i have people i love."

he comes closer.

"if you make music, or art, or anything, you make it for people.
I make music, and i have someone i love.
and i make music for her. With her. About her." he takes a swig. "for her."

"it's not the same if it's not for anyone. Sometimes it doesn't feel right if you keep it to yourself. Hell, i think that's often the case."

"and she loves you for it?" i asked.

"her? she's wonderful. All i do is for her.
Just me and her and a guitar, i could not ask for a better audience."

the song ends. both of us clap.

"pleasure meeting you, good sir." he presents his hand for me to shake. "pleasure meeting a musician, and a regular."

"pleasure meeting you." i shake his hand.

he paid for his bill, and stands to leave. as he exits the door, i notice someone waiting for him. a girl, a bit younger than him. they embrace.

.

.

i haven't seen him play for the bar ever since then. though i'd like to  think he's doing pretty good anyways.

.

.

.

.
a name Nov 2021
how beautiful is that.

a 711 in sunset.

...

in the fall of 20XX i visited every 711 i've ever been to.

i set off in the early morning.

i started with the farthest, in the side of a motorway, sixty miles from my city.

when i arrived, the world was still blue, and the cashier was still sleeping on the counter. i bought my first bottle of water for the day there.

there was nothing special in here, i thought, other than the fact that it felt like the farthest familiar place i've been to.

.

.

.

i took a taxi back to the city, to it's seaside. as the sun rose i arrived at a grand hotel.

it was a sight to behold. but a horror to stand around in; the stench of the city seaside smelled like all the worst parts of a seafood market back dumpster.

i crossed the avenue to the 711 adjacent from the hotel. there i bought another bottle of water and sat to stare at the sunrise.

.

.

it was better back then, i thought.

the last time i was in that 711 was the afternoon before a js prom.

i bought a bottle of gin and a bottle of grapefruit juice. i mixed those and gave it to my friends.

they needed it; they were scared shitless of their dates. i needed it too; to survive the stench of a stinking sea i really did prefer just removing my sense of smell entirely.

once our confidences were healed back and our ties and collars were sufficiently stinking of alcohol we ventured into the hotel.

i exited the 711 and stood at the bay walk area besides the hotel. the sun is rising in the east right now, but in that prom day then we would've been treated with a sunset.

there is nothing like the sight of a hundred suits and dresses in a hotel courtyard, illuminated by the light of a sunset amplified by a million reflections from ocean waves.

i would say that now, but me back then would have thought differently.

unfortunately for me i was drunk for the duration of that day and night, and the only beauty i was eager about was that of my own date.

but even then it wouldn't have been the same without the sunset.

her in a lilac dress, her hair glowing like fire from the sunlight, her face perfect in shade and shadow and hue.

even a drunk wouldn't forget such a sight.

.

.

i left the seaside once the sun was high.

.

.

the next 711 i went to was in the inner city, right besides a university.

it wasn't far from the hotel, so i walked all the way. i intended to sweat all the water i drank so i wouldn't have to *** behind a 711.

i arrived at noon. i bought another bottle of water, and one of their hotdogs cooked in the steam of sewage.

god, for such an awfully average establishment, one couldn't deny how much impact it has for a lot of people.

for the kind like me, a teenager back then, who wouldn't have been able to hang out in bars and parks and such, the 711 was where we ended up in.

they'd let anyone in, let anyone hang around as long as you bought anything, and the cashiers would just let a kid buy any ***** he wanted, since they weren't paid enough anyways to deny business.

for a kid like me back then, i would always end up in a 711. when the classes ended, or before they started, or even when i chose to ignore going to school altogether and went on random adventures, still, i would end up in a bench inside the 24 hour orange green red.

and for an entire spring in 201X, it was in this 711 i ended up in every afternoon. inside a busy city, besides a university.

and i would get my phone, send a million messages saying "i'm nearby", and then wait for her.

.

.

fancy university girl. glowed bright as a star, brighter than anyone in high school, and was now in her rightful place in the heavens.

heaven being an overpriced sweat shop for smart people.

(of course, no one told her that joining the stars in the heavens would only make you as bright as they are, or as dull as they are. sure, i guess they'd be taught what apparent and absolute magnitude is, but bet you they won't realize how it applied to them.)

i would wait for hours.

sure, i would have spent my time walking around the city and loitering around and discovering thrift shops and alleys and sewers and such, but eventually that wore me down and i would just sit in the quiet of the store awaiting her.

and when her classes ended, she did arrive.

for the first few weeks she would rush to me, sometimes even with an embrace, but often with enthusiasm anyways, and we would spend the time together.

i would buy her something and she would tell me her day in the classrooms and i would tell her my day in the alleys.

it was well for a while. it made the effort of travelling worth it.

but after a while her cheer faded. her stories dampened, replies dull.

i asked her what was wrong.

she would tell me she had problems.

though then days after that she would only tell me she was tired.

days after that she'd say she didn't want to talk about it.

after that, nothing at all.

and then the days would get colder.

she would stop responding to my messages, but i would still be waiting.

and eventually i would see her, across the street. and i know she could see me too.

but then she ripped that glance off her face, and boarded a bus.

.

.

it stung then. of course it would sting.

spring ended into another summer. for me however, it didn't feel like summer. i felt cold under the sun. under layers i would still feel cold. in hot buses it would still be cold. within the bustling unforgiving city, within all it's smoke and steam and heat, still it would be cold.

you would ask why i was still in the city. i still went, to wait. besides the university, in the 711, in the same seat.

it stung, yes, but it's never just the first sting that you go through. it itched. and i had to itch. i couldn't stop bothering it.

not the best behavior, i know, but i didn't bother then. i couldn't care less about what i was doing.

i still waited until her dismissal time. and i would see her, of course, across the street, on her way. i knew she could see me, because she never again glanced towards where i was. she would take the first bus she sees.

this went for a while. about a month. until the last day of semester.

there was an event in the school grounds that day. everyone wore the same shirt. students were coming in and out of the 711, buying amenities, buying soda, chips, *****.

i watched out for her, in case. though with difficulty, since they all wore the same clothes, and all the girls all looked the same from behind with their hair.

but i watched out, for one with a pair of thick framed glasses. i watched out for anyone carrying a brown faux leather sling bag. i watched out for anyone standing at about 5'4.

crowds passed, came and went. dismissal time arrived, yet i still haven't seen her. i decided to wait a bit more.

the crowds became thinner, yet still i haven't spotted her.

i bought a bottle of dark ***, and mixed it with coke, as my late lunch. maybe i thought the alcohol would help with the spotting. maybe i thought it could help with the waiting. maybe i just needed it.

sunset came, and i still didn't spot her.

in desperation (or utter idiocy), i did the one thing you probably shouldn't do when you're (for a lack of a better term) stalking someone: i called her.

no, not even a text message, a call. god was i stupid.

she answered the call.

"hello?" it sounded. behind her voice was music, and cheers.

i hung up. i said nothing. she could still be in the campus. or home. or someone elses.

i was ready to give up then. for a moment i stopped thinking about her, and considered what i was doing.

but i was stumped. honestly, i had no idea what i was doing. all those months all i was doing was winging it. i had no plans.

i drank all the rest of my *** and chased it with the last drops of coke i had.

somehow, i felt too tired to go. i stayed in my seat. i wasn't waiting anymore, but i stayed anyways.

sunset turned to dusk. i sat. i sat and stared at the blue of the world, stared so hard i didn't notice the blue turn to black.

suddenly, i felt sweat. and heat. it could've been the alcohol.

i stood and left the 711. in drunken boredom, i decided to walk around the circumference of the university block.

i distracted myself. the world was pretty; the shining light of traffic, the window lights of high rises, all heightened and saturated by drunken eyes. i took three laps around the school.

after the last lap, i was finally tired enough. i decided to go.

i waited on the pedestrian. right across me was the 711.

there were barely any people around anymore. i looked around.

inside the 711 was the cashier, and two people seated. students of the university. one of them was a tall man with waxed hair. the other was a girl with glasses. there was a brown bag on the table.

she looked at the window. i kept my eyes on her. we held our vision for a moment, until a bus came in between us, stopping at the red light.

i broke my focus and boarded the bus.

.

.

i hate this 711, i have decided.

i ****** on the back alley of it and left for the next one.

.

.

the next few 711's were not much special.

one was on the city edge, besides another gas station. my memories within it aren't interesting. i bought energy drinks here, and that's it.

the next was besides another school building. nothing special here either, just an establishment i bought stuff in. i think i may have visited this 711 while drunk.

this one is besides an interesting road, full of antique shops and japan surpluses. of course, nothing happened in this 711, since i always went for the shops afterwards.

then there's this one, a stray 711, within another inner city, right at the commercial district. where my farmers market resides, where the only pub in town resides.

unsurprisingly, i seldom visit this one, since i always go for the bar first. but this place stood out from the others, because of the cats.

the cats live in the farmers market where they prowl around in the meat section. some of the shop keeps adopt them for pest control. others for some additional display.

who wouldn't like to buy vegetables AND pet a cat at the same time.

this was the 711 i go to after i get inebriated in the pub. after a few beers, i buy an energy drink to assist me as i return home.

and this 711 had it's own shop cat. a brown tabby who hangs out besides the parking lot.

and he would meet me every time i visit the establishment.

yeah, i like this 711, i have decided. i'm welcome in the bars and pubs, but i have never felt more welcomed by a place than this. the cat would always come close and purr when i pet him.

he was a sight for sore eyes, even drunk eyes. one time i gave him a piece of meat i bought from the market.

i looked around the 711 area. he doesn't seem to be here right now.

surely, he's still alive. i've never had a day without him when visiting. but it seems he isn't here.

i decided to wait him out. i bought a pack of cigarettes and sat on the store stairs.

maybe he's in the farmers market. or prancing about in some different store. maybe someone adopted him. that would be nice.

i waited for an hour. i smoked a million cigarettes. the storeowner must be suspecting me for sitting on his stairs and polluting the air.

and when my millionth and one cigarette burned away, i decided to leave.

i seem to be doing a lot of waiting around for someone to come. but i've learned my lesson not to stray and stay too much.

it was fine for me to not see him today. he's a cat, not an ex girlfriend.

the light of the afternoon was blazing on the horizon. i felt nauseous. i decided to leave for the pub.

.

.

i had two beers and peanuts. 711's don't serve peanuts to people who drink in them, you have to buy them yourself.

it was three in the afternoon when i left the pub. i wasn't drunk, but i had enough drinks to stir my body. i went from the pub to the 711 again, to buy a drink before i go to my last stop.

and there he was, sitting besides a parked motorcycle. he got fatter, and he's wearing a worn out collar.

i went close and he did likewise. i petted the big cat. he purred like he was mine. what a nice cat.

.

.

i took a bus to my last stop. the sky was beginning to look beautiful again, as the sun set.

my final stop was the first 711 i've been to. which happened to be close to my house, and close to my schools.

there was nothing special about this 711, other than provenance and memory. it was as big as any other 711, with a parking lot and dining tables.

but being right between several schools, this establishment was always full of patrons of every age and status. university boys who finished playing in their basketball courts. nerds who order bottles of mountain dew and cough syrup. teachers who sit with the misfits every after class. it was the student's spot.

i had many fond memories of this place. my first bottle of gin. my first argument with a classmate. accidentally breaking a lamp with my friends, which ended up with us being barred from the store for two months. good times.

but some unsavory ones too, especially on the last days i went here. first police warning. first breakup. first theft. and some hurtful memories.

i sat on the waiting bench parallel to the 711. i watched as the sun crawls down on it's imprint on the windows.

i have decided i didn't like this place.

.

.


i lit another cigarette as the sun sank beneath the clouds, turning them into a lit mosaic of broken reds. how beautiful is that, a 711 in sunset.

i though of the last time i went here.

that phone call.

.

.

it was an hour before midnight. i received a phone call from a friend telling me to meet her in the 711. i happened to be at the pub when this occurred.

i said "yeah, i'll be there, but in this time of night?"

i boarded the bus and arrived at the 711. she was sitting on the steps. she wore a big baggy sweater. her hair was in disarray, and even in the shadow backlit by the store lights i could see her reddened cheeks and ruined makeup.

i asked her, "are you okay?"

she nodded, but with a deep expression. we sat on the seats outside the shop.

"why'd you call me today?" i asked.

she kept silent. she was eyeing the inside of the 711.

"i just got a bit of extra cash. Want a drink?" i asked her.

"no, i just needed to meet someone today." she said.

i could tell she was not well. "Was it (--------)?"

"i don't have to tell you." she said.

"was it your family?" i asked again.

"no, no" she took a sip of water.

"school, then?"

she said nothing.

"christ, why did you ask me here then?" i retorted. i was inebriated, not polite.

she didn't respond. she took another sip. she sobbed a little bit.

a silence. it went for a minute. she drank all of her water.

.

.

.

"we can't keep meeting without you telling me nothing. I should at least know why we're here in the middle of the night."

"christ, do you have to know everything?" she grabbed her things, stood and went, wiping her face.

i stood to catch her. "(------), no, come here."

she was crying. her sobs were broken. it shook me, hearing someone cry.

"you don't have to tell me, just don't cry."

"you can't tell me that right now."

"okay then, cry. just--" i was lost for words. this has never happened to me before.

"you're an *******. why do you have to be like that right now. why is everyone-" she wailed. she was crying hard.

"please, (------). don't cry. i don't know what to do about this."

"just hold me, please. it's all you have to do."

i hugged her. i felt her sweater more than i felt her body. i was thin and bony; hugging her didn't feel correct. i felt like i was a cage.

"why does it all have to happen all at once? it's too much for me." she said. i was still clueless, but she was crying.

"there there, now." i was saying all the usual words. i didn't know what was the right thing to say. there is very little i could do about sudden crying.

"i can't do it anymore. it's too much."

those words struck me. i had no idea what to say.

i held her for a while, outside the 711. there was no one around to see us. there was only her, crying and sobbing, and me, clueless and helpless.

.

.

that was a year ago, after the school season.

that was the first someone has ever cried to me, in that way.

it was... unusual. i felt like it was too sudden, too unusual. though i know what could've been troubling her, i didn't expect tears. and that line...

i rummaged through my mind of all my memories of her.

sitting around and drinking outside the shop. watching her and her boyfriend dance around, locked in each other's hands, when a good song plays on the radio. sitting on the bench, talking about our lives and troubles, as the sun set.

all shadowed by that memory of her, in the night, crying on my arms. and that line...

"i can't do it anymore..."

i never got to talk to her again. she's ghosted me for quite a while, and never responded to anyone from our circle again.

it ruined me a bit, and my memories of this place.

.

.

and i never got to visit this 711 again. since then, i faced my own downward spiral and went distant from so many.

but i'd still go around adventures and walk around the avenues, within the city and within memory.

i sat in front of the last and first of my 711's as the sun disappeared. after a few smokes i stood and left for home.

.

.

what did i accomplish from this trip? **** all. i just needed an excuse to go around town. though i am reminded of how much little places can mean, even just the liminal corners we visit.

and i was partly reminded of what my adventures meant. what i've gone through from the years through these little stores we visit.

from a prom, to a stint of obsession, to a hard time, to cats.

and i am to visit a lot more 711's in my time. maybe the same ones, or even new ones.

besides, i know i'll be needing to go to 711's often, for drinks and food.

who knows what the years have in store for us, even in the smallest of places?

.

.

i look back at the store as it shrinks away, within the darkness...
this was a little exercise of mine, based on a true story, with parts that are inspired by reality. it's not polished, nor is it clever, nor is it striking in any way.

i just needed to write something.
Oct 2021 · 52
unemployed
a name Oct 2021
i am unemployed
unemployable
yes i am
just a waste of space
but we often are the ones filling every corner
every barstool
every bus seat
you forget those who are waiting
who are working
to get themselves together
are just the same
as is anyone in circumstance
yes, i fill the space
what do i provide?
company to the cats
and rats
and eyes that wander
or wonder
when the next month comes out
or when the tomorrow waits for boarders
i see the next taxi driver stare at the northern star
instead of driving where his patron wants him to go.
Oct 2021 · 227
carver
a name Oct 2021
only when you've carved out what you wanted from life
did you realize
what mess you made
and what statue
you've ended up
for the rest of us
to see.
Oct 2021 · 105
alcohol
a name Oct 2021
i wish i wasn't sober but
they cost a lot
quite  a  bit
of top dollar
just for one
little  fix
the  one
stinking
floral mix
made   of
crushed grapes
and roasted barley
and given a little bit of time
to rot and ferment and boil
to be served   to   those fermenting
and rotting,   and boiling,   in time
hello bartender, give me something
i have   never        tasted         before
could be an ipa, or a stout, or a draft
or some peat, or potato, or top dollar
glittery mix of ***** and cough syrup
what you have in that tap, or that bottle
just make sure i can afford to drink it
make me sure i wont end up spilling
god forbid,   they cost a lot,  quite a bit
you could tell i started with a bottle but ended up with an inverted wine glass
Oct 2021 · 101
he says too much
a name Oct 2021
mind and heart had a schism

mind stood there thinking how to pour his heart out
writing it like his wedding vows, sounding like a eulogy

and he'd forgotten how to shave, how to comb
how to tie a shoe or how to walk with it

yes, he is thinking of her
at the same time, he is thinking of snake pits
and cliff jumps
and cannibals

pouring out, like bile from a faucet
his life story
how he wished it all satisfied
all the reasons to write another chapter

yet it sounds like a mess written by schizophrenic
fighting for the choice of words
the pen
the paper
one wants to just chew it all off

in his tight shoes, trembling legs
wanting to run
wanting to limp
waiting for a lightning bolt
to shock some sense into him

and he stood there
writing wails
all turning into ramble
turning into a freeze

mind and heart had a schism
and it tired heart

but heart didn't mind
he knows
this often happens

and yes, he is thinking of her
and how nice she was

after a moment, mind spoke his cacophony
and he thought it sounded fine

and she hid inside her apartment from the sound
within her pillows and comforter

then mind dropped to the floor
on a pool of grey matter

yeah, heart said
this happens
often

god hope it didn't, he thought
but at least it gives me pointers

and so heart put mind in an ambulance stretcher
doped and dried until he needs him again

heart bought some chocolates, some coffee, slathered himself with antiperspirant

and he knocked at her bedroom door

she opened the door to a tired heart, who fed a garbage brain

and heart embraced her with all his fervor
a name Oct 2021
have you been eating well? i asked

yes, she said. her face was shining

your sleep?

quite well. i wake up in the morning now, at least.

vaccine?

one shot. and i'll be having a booster shot soon.

great. great.

.

.

we had beer today. she brought over some pastries. for once i was not left hungry.

she was wearing a beige sweater. she wore boots instead of slippers. she wore the same glasses.

you changed your lightbulb, she said.

yeah, orange now. a bit better, innit?

honestly? for me, not really. it makes the place look like a western.

oh. ok.

.

.

why don't we go upstairs? she asked

it's a mess. i had a re-haul of sorts. i'll have no visitors there.

oh, ok.

.

.

there was a silence as i finished my beer. she finished hers as well.

i grabbed a cup of water. i had to take my meds. i opened the last day of my pill box.

you still take a lot of meds?

i have to, i said. the old ones. some vitamins. this horse pill.

really? that one?

heh, yeah. it's not that big of a deal.

she held a chuckle.

this one's for humans. mother got it from a pharmacist, not a vet. not sure if if does anything, but it's pretty much just nothing. i just take it so she'd get off my ***.

she kept her snark. it was nice to hear a laugh.

i took my pills and washed it down. taking so many still left me feeling like i swallowed a stone.

she was staring. her expression was... unco.

what are we going to do now, she asked

i took a breath to clear my chest. i felt stiff.

you know what, why don't we go outside. it's past the hot hours.

sure, why not.

get your mask.

.

.

.

it was the finest week of september. the sky was streaked by yesterday's rainclouds. there would be a pretty sunset today.

it was not a busy sunday.

no one would be walking to church.

there would still be no children playing, nor old people in their garden chairs gossiping with their neighbors.

and there were no cars in this particular afternoon.

it was quiet.

.

.

we walked slowly.

she told me her usual gossip. i responded with the usual humor. the standard back and forth customary within slow walks.

i still felt stiff as we went. she looked relaxed by comparison. she seemed to be in better form than me the whole day.

there's usually no one in the park these days, i said.

well yeah, no one's going outside.

they still do. but a lot more subdued, i think. though these days are a lot better.

yeah.

.

.

we reached the park.

the slides and swings were empty. the covered court right besides it was empty as well. adjacent was a quiet construction site. it had replaced the trees and bushes that this park once had. this place has changed over the years.

we sat in a concrete bench. i ripped my mask off to breath the empty air.

she kept hers on. she wore a cloth mask with an embroidered figure in pink.

wait, are you vaccinated? she asked.

yep. that single dose one made by the people who make shampoo. sure felt like i was injected shampoo too.

ah.

she took her mask off as well. she took a breath. it came out sounding like a sigh.

are you a lot better now? i asked.

yes, i am. believe me. you?

don't ask me yet.

okay. do you still talk to your friends?

not really.

work?

no.

school?

ha, no.

.

.

do you still write?

no. couldn't.

well, that never stopped you before. what was that quote that you always say?

what quote?

the one about everyone being a poet.

ah, right. everyone makes poetry, but only some write it down.

that always was a funny one. i liked hearing that a lot from you drunk.

yeah.

for someone who despises cliché quotes, you always repeat that like everyone didn't hear it.

only when drunk. i say a lot of cliché stuff when drunk.

i liked those times. times with crowds. and beer. and clichés.

i like them too. those times will come again.

yeah.

and we'll be a lot older, with a lot more stories to tell.

yeah. some more drunken poetry from you.

.

.

the minutes towards sunset arrived.

.

.

you never liked my poems. i never saw you as one who would care for those, other than like song lyrics.

i like it. i like it coming from you too.

oh. ok. thanks.

it's nice to hear. i liked it when you describe and stuff.

it's not that creative. it's not even clever.

and that one afternoon...

yeah, that one. that wasn't so long ago.

she faced me. her hair was glowing within the golden light.

she wore blush. i could never tell why women would want to look like that. a blush could mean so much different emotions.

.

.

.

no writing. tell me a poem. describe me.

now?

it's the perfect time.

.

.

the last of the sun peaked over the building roof.

the light reflected from the greater clouds colored the lesser haze in vermillion; blush over the darkening blue.

the green and trees and bare scaffolding in their shadow, embellished by the setting light, as articulate and abstract as an impressionist frame.

the remnant of the afternoon heat drove the wind to chorus, and now it sings a soft encore.

the world loses another warmth, but the chill of this hour will soothe, before another freeze.

and the image of you

within this

the world, fickle and sibylline

but always, with everything, ethereal

with you, divine.

.

.

.

"you're beautiful."

.

.

she smiled. she leans for a kiss.

i take it. it was not as cold as it usually felt.

.

.

.

.

are you a lot better now?

a bit. remind me to give you some ivermectin later.

funny.

we broke distance again. better be safe.

she laughs. her expression became dissolute.

keep your worm pill. come here.

.

.

.
Sep 2021 · 63
come to me if it's broken
a name Sep 2021
i bought you a cheap concert uke
so you can strum away in your dark room
anytime deluge visits

i transcribed one of your favorite songs
in tab
so you can sing along with the windchimes
when it's stormy outside

and i know you strum aggressively
so strong that you broke the top end of your old uke
i bought you a bottle of superglue
in case that happens

and i know you think you're too loud sometimes
loud enough for every neighbor to hear
still, i know it doesn't bother you much
but i still strung the thing with lighter gauge strings

and i know your fits are bad
and i know you tend to break things
and i know how anger lasts for some of us
i know how it feels to have that kind of leech

but i know you'll persevere
you always do
faced with the maddened ups and downs
though i admit, it seemed
it's getting bad as the days go by

so i'll be there
to help you out a bit

if you feel like talking
or if you want that silence
still, i'm keeping check

god knows you've had enough of people
but i know no one lasts
stuck inside their own mind

come to me
and i'll give you beer
and some jokes
or i'll visit you
and you can brew us some tea
talk about tea

i wrote a message on some masking tape
and put it inside the soundboard

i hope you never get to read it.
Sep 2021 · 76
katahimikan
a name Sep 2021
you sound like ****.
and your voice is too high pitched
or too low pitched
or too monotonous
or too expressive
or too normal

and i don't want to hear from you again
no amount of rubber plugs will drown out all those things you said
all you say
all you will ever say
all you should have said

and i don't want to hear the highway
with it's loud horns and loud engines
i don't want to hear the working class toiling in smoke
the higher class shouting propaganda
the poor singing begs

i don't want to hear the crash of thunder
upon metal roofs
not the squall and rain
eroding cheap houses
not the high pitched tinnitus of the hottest noon
or the infrasound rumble of the coming storm

i don't want to hear your pop music
or your avant garde dishwashing
i don't want to hear your politicians with their shameless lies
your celebrities with their awful acting
your protestors with their empty outcry
your tanks and rifles replacing protest with barbarity

and you
you keep your mouth shut now
i don't want to hear
anymore of your retorts
do not excuse this world for being so noisy
you only make it a decibel more loud

nothing you can do to make it any better
go ahead and rip my ears with the cochlea
and i will hear the tearing flesh
followed by the searing noise
of exposed nerve
one more tumult of another unheard scream
more noises of more pain
louder in quietude
another
another

and no
not even pity
not even peace
not even silence

yes, not even silence

make sure to zip it while you make your way out
even if your thought speaks volumes

leave me be within my pandemonium

i've heard enough from you
and i've said too much
i don't want to hear myself complain anymore
a name Sep 2021
but what you can also do
is write two or three verses
for them to click
expecting more...
but this one doesn't work as often
so your call.
a name Sep 2021
so you start with a pretty solid first few foundations
set the tone with something enigmatic or romantic
maybe something like "i loved you then" or "you took my hand"
or "i found a rat in a corner store hotdog stand"

but make sure to put your rising action before your peaking
in the sixth and seventh right above "Continue reading"

because if they read but don't don't click, it won't register as a view
and that'd be very sad and unfortunate for you
Sep 2021 · 56
angry god
a name Sep 2021
seven billion
archangels
play the music
of creation
on violins
and bass saxophones

it has been written
what our end
will be

not how it would feel
searing pain
glorious agony

the liars
in polyester cassocks
ask

have you lamented

we are nothing
but flaws

not an excuse
for you to reap

only the reapers
allowed
unlike you
they reap for harvest

and unlike the priests
the madmen in the streets
will have the last laugh

when god descends
for our
ascendance

the seraphs held in their hands the fires of life

holy
holy
holy
Sep 2021 · 71
mourner
a name Sep 2021
fortunate are those
who have learned
what sorrow is

it is better to grieve
than lie
about strength.
Aug 2021 · 78
january, 2019
a name Aug 2021
in a dimly lit room
on that cold january night

the music from your broken phone
made the room warm with sunlight

and even in shadow
you glowed with ethereal light

in a drunken haze
i told you how i loved you

you replied
with the purest of smiles

and as we lay on the carpet
you told me
the rest of the year
wont be as good as this

and when the day ended
i knew
you were right
a name Aug 2021
gazed upon the grand recite
on her noble stage
her kitchen floor

and you were full to the brim
with passion and effort
lo, you really tried to impress
impress everyone to think
you are worthy of an audience

and the three of us clapped
your ideas did strike
but after three beers and a few moments
your aglio e olio impressed us better

and i stayed for the afterparty
a guttered you in a cold warm couch

and you were too tired to impress
but nontheless you spoke
of fictions and literatures
and your very own life

and made it so
i couldn't tell
which was which
did you really live a life
of magic and splendor
in far off lands
with far off people

i am not the brightest
i am simple
i cheer when something is loud

but i digest
the simple things
to get from them
the nutrition
overanalyzed
nutrition

i liked it
when you said
you were going to change the world

i liked it better
when you said
i think the pasta's too spicy

i learned to love
another drunken poet
through a babbled prose

well, maybe i'm just lazy
to appreciate your effort
or tired
or drunk

but either way
i like you better

without the stanzas
Aug 2021 · 60
cake
a name Aug 2021
a tablespoon of sugar
a teaspoon of salt

five kilograms of sweat
and an ounce of regret

three cups of flour
all purpose
so is your intention

for a day like this
a ton of devotion

see them brighten
when you serve it
on your best plate

with a smile
without it
you may as well have not baked at all.
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