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681 · Jun 8
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
625 · Nov 2021
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.
607 · Jul 2021
a name Jul 2021




my heart was broken at 19.

granted, it's been broken before
but not as wild
i felt heartache at nineteen

i saw the mountains at 19

with music playing
like sirens on an emerald
i found truth at nineteen

truth beyond me
beyond me such
that i didn't matter anymore

i found out i was broken
at nineteen

and i spent my wasted hours
fixing a gravel path
looking for blinding lights
gnawing at oxen corpses

waiting for 19 to end
into a 20
for another year of
another backache

another **** decade, as well

but nineteen was fun, too

nineteen i listened to music
on the dark empty road
and found happiness in nothing

nineteen i slept for fifteen hours
every day
and fed off marrow after the hard case

nineteen i told someone i loved them
and they knew they were loved
even when everything was grim

nineteen i was better
than eighteen
oh, tons better

(eighteen me was an absolute *******,
just the worst ******* pillock)

and i will wait for 19 to end
into 20
another year
another backache

and another me
better than before
happy birthday to another *******
a name Jul 2021
i ventured out to visit a church in the far northern Nova
and to visit a farther church in the newborn Bagong Silang

and later i would return to my home
the lowly pub of Tacio
in the ruthless, wondrous Cubao

pero nakakagago ang trapik
isang oras sa quirino
lima sa perbyu
isang milyong mga naghihintay
sa ilang milyong mga vios

but who am i to complain
i had a good seat on an airconditioned bus
and a front seat on a jeepney

kung di lang mabaho sa harap
perpekto na sana
isang paa ako sa kalye
handa nang tumalon at makalimutan ng drayber

the whole country was in cold rain
colder than any winter
anyone could've imagined
the foreigners would agree with me;
the ones in the malls didn't have red skin
and they looked like they were glad to finally wear the clothing they were destined to wear

pati si ate nagbebenta ng basahan
naka pang ski
akala mo bakasyon sa estados

i didn't have a good prior week
medicine failed me
i had an itch in my head
i couldn't write anything
i felt my angry filipino palaboy scream out passionately for beer and conquest

kung beer lang pala
sa expo nalang ako nanatili
pero 85 para sa serbesa negra
walang coaster walang mani
mas mura pang pumunta ng nova
at maghanap ng beer dun
may extra pa pambili ng pang sigang

i am not particularly religious
but i loved the old church
inside the market
and all of it's ironies

ingay ng power drill
budots at kpop
presyong divisoria
sampu sampu
bente trenta
at iba pa

it emanated all around such a holy place
and as much as it saddened me
i had nostalgia for the sound of the busy city
echoing inside a cathedral

pina alis ni kristo ang mga nagbebenta sa loob ng tahanan ng kanyang itay
pero nanatili ang kanilang mga boses
mga sigaw

diretso ako sa sakayan papuntang Philcoa
sa harap ulit ng jeep
naisipan kong umuwi nalang
ngayong nabisita ko na ang talipapa
hindi pa puno ang mga upuan pero diretso na rin si kuya drayber
pagkat mahina pa ang ulan at trapik

i often think during the noisy silence of rain
and this time i thought
about the lengths i would go to
just for escape
for inspiration

beer and conquest i thought

bakit ko nga pala ginawa to?
sa tingin ko'y tinamad na kong magdusa sa loob ng bahay
mas nasipagan pa kong mamasyal sa ulan
naghihintay ng kaginhawahan sa kalye

sa tingin ko'y naintindihan ako ng jeep
at ang kanyang pagkinig ay ala masahe sa aking likod

the jeep understood me
and so did the ride
there was little traffic
and the rain was softer than before

and in that massage i received from the seat of a rumbling jeepney
was meditation

sa lahat ng byahe ko
ang aking isip ay palaging sa labas ng bintana
madalas natin ginugugol ang ating dilat sa pagdaan ng mundo
sa kapaligiran ng ulan
sa lamig ng ating balat

"in all of my travels
my mind is always outside of the windows
we often spend our sights on the passing of the world
the presence of rain
the cold on our skin"

i haven't thought of that before

di ko pa naisip yun ah

masulat nga

and i took a piece of receipt paper out of my coat pocket
and the rain did not tamper it

the rain is soft
the wind is brisk
the traveler feels the world once again

and he wrote down
for the first time
in weeks

masahe sa harap ng jeep
518 · Apr 2021
a name Apr 2021
tell her
she looks beautiful
in her summer dress

tell him
he looks nice in the shirt
his grandma chose for him

tell her
you're buying her dinner

tell him
you're ordering the prime steak

tell her
she smells nice

tell him
thank you

(that's not at all weird)

tell her
she's beautiful

tell him
you're not ready

tell her
it hurts on the first time

tell him
he's not getting any

as long as it's the only thing
he thinks about

tell her
you're stupid
and what you did
was stupid

tell him
he looks beautiful

tell her
she looks beautiful

tell him
you're done

tell her
517 · Nov 2020
dinner talk
a name Nov 2020
no mother, i'm fine
i had a good 12 hours of sleep

no mother, its fine
i've had enough gravy for my pork
kinda bland but it's ok

no mother, don't worry about it
the scar on my thumb isn't a branding
from a gang
or cigarette ember

(it was from a cigar but besides the point)

yes, mother, i'm ok
if i wasn't i wouldn't be here
though i'd rather not be

thanks for the meal, mom
i'll give you something back
some other time

for now i'll sleep for another
few dozen hours
479 · Dec 2021
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
in his light
- by a bumblebee.

give them some love
and please HePo accept their poem request pleeeeeeeeeeese
467 · Nov 2020
november light
a name Nov 2020
everyone writes about the november light
how soothing
how bright
but here it was
waking a ****** at 3 pm
how nice

he slept at the couch since the living room's darker
he slept a good 14 hours
because of the tablets
in his head he's been sleeping
since september
a noisy september
gave him nothing but fatigue
and the torrents of storms
and streetcars
he closed his eyes as the rain put him to sleep
without any care
as to when he's going to wake up

but he awoke at november
and the gloom was tinted
by the afternoon
he ate his breakfast
his housemate's lunch
he retched at the toilet floor an hour after
his day was going swimmingly

he expected nothing better
than the last few minutes
waking up
hating the open aperture of
his godforsaken eyes
and all he craved was a smoke
so he went outside
and for once
it was quiet
it was nice
the sun brightened the shadows
of the apartments of a cul de sac
the clouds littered a soft blue void
a softness he hasn't seen
since god knows when
the air stank well
the roads
filled not with cars
but with critters
both human and not
and the sunlight
not the harshness of april
nor the woe of june
but a caress
like the warm embrace of a lover
whose heat never went out
when darkness fell

and for once
for a very long time
it was quiet
it was nice
442 · Dec 2020
people are wine
a name Dec 2020
and they age
sometimes nicely
worth gold

but some turn
into vinegar
welcome nonetheless
but least liked
in the grocery list

we always hope
we age
instead of spoil
there's too many of the harsh
and sour
and very little
of the party treat

and little we can do
when the bottles break
stinking vinegar
wasted wine
take care
425 · Nov 2020
where it's still
a name Nov 2020
she led me to a forest
in the deep darkened mountains

where are you taking me, titania
love of mine, it's late

we passed through the country town
lit by its lights
by it's folk
clinging to the brightness
the clarity
of their life
made of lies

we passed through the lamp lit roads
traversed by sleepers in their chariots
sodium vapor torches
that tried their best
to say
it's still day

we turn to a path
from the pavement
a dirt road
surrounded by bushes
by whistling pines
we parted from the lights
from the roads
from the people
we entered through darkness
that shone
the 6 pm light
the dusk that was more true
than noon

and she led me to a clearing
surrounded by trees
and in it's center
a bird bath
stood like an altar
a sacred platform
within the blue

and around us
i haven't seen so many
for so long
they surrounded us
like stars around a black hole
in a cobalt void

she took my hand
and leaned to my chest
this is where we met,
my oberon
this is where it's tranquil

where we're real
i smoked half a pack of camel and had a dream
a name Apr 2021
other than what the beatles have already sang about
yes, even the ones after revolver
347 · Jun 16
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
and failing
and becoming beautiful

knowing we are not by ourselves
a single song
but others pitching in
and making accidents
in symphony
312 · Nov 2020
a name Nov 2020
don't worry
i am alone
not lonely
i have several voices in me
to keep me company

don't pity me
i do not crave for any of your
half baked presence
you're all lonely
because you're all selfish
you only need to be there for people
because it's good for you
company becomes so worthless
after the first few minutes

so leave my mind
the crowd in my head
doesn't need another
selfish wreck
hard being schizophrenic with several pessimistic thoughts
296 · Jul 2021
read out your poems, loud
a name Jul 2021
until your neighbor knows how beautiful you are
and read it out until your throat clogs
until the sky turns dark

i had my mother, who has stopped writing
recite the poems she loved
and now the cats know
that walt whitman is in her heart.
291 · Jul 2021
a name Jul 2021
in a streetside diner, i greeted an old man

"magandang hapon po," i said

"hinde." he said. and he threw up on the flower ***

and in that moment, i knew it was not
a name Aug 2021
she looked worn out and wrinkly.

her date in comparison was wearing a beige suit, but under the dusk light he looked like he was the same color as the building paint. he could almost pass as presentable.

he was a business graduate, and he recently had some sort of corporate deal that would grant him some sort of something.

she didn't care for it at all, whatever happened with him and such.
all he is to her was some old college friend of a friend, who happened to approach her a few weeks back.

it had been a while since she had talked to anyone from her old school, and she was almost bewildered that chuck asked to take her to dinner. she couldn't refuse; despite of what she thinks of him, or what he would think of her, she was not one to refuse activity.

all she is expecting now is company, and a good talk and a good dinner. she expects that from him, but not from herself.

taking her seat, she felt a bit lightheaded.

the restaurant was glamourous. it looked liked the insides of a department store furniture section. hardwood beams and hardwood posts and matte black stools with velvet cushions. the lights were incandescent; the type of light she loved, that reminded her of four o'clock sunshine and reflections upon amber fall leaves.

๐˜ช๐˜ง ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ญ๐˜บ ๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด, she pondered. her mind began to wander.

"๐’‚ ๐’‰๐’๐’Ž๐’† ๐’•๐’‰๐’‚๐’• ๐’๐’๐’๐’Œ๐’” ๐’๐’Š๐’Œ๐’†
๐’Ž๐’‚๐’‘๐’๐’† ๐’•๐’“๐’†๐’†๐’” ๐’Š๐’ ๐’‚๐’–๐’•๐’–๐’Ž๐’ ๐’๐’Š๐’ˆ๐’‰๐’•...--

"Hey, are you alright?"

she was staring at the lightbulbs. she was startled

"Oh, sorry. Long day. Can we have some water?"

they gestured to the waiter. chuck had the flair of a high class yuppie. all around her were upper middle class couples and well dressed demoiselles drinking brightly colored cocktails. she felt small.

the waiter gave them a pitcher of cucumber water and their menus.

๐˜ฆ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ, ๐˜ค๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ถ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ. ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜บ ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜บ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฆ ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข ๐˜ง๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ฉ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ.

"Order anything you'd like" said chuck. "I'm not afraid to spend tonight."

"Are you sure? We can split this later, I got paid and all-"

"Please, it'd be rude of me to make you pay. Especially now."

๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ด๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ?

she looked at the menu. it had all sorts of cuisines, european and exotic. she could order something from spain and eat her way through the mediterranean and the alps and end up eating desert from japan.

๐˜ช ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต

she hadn't eaten for hours. shame went out of the window.

"I'll have the fillet. And the mushroom soup. And the swordfish. And this. And this... how do you say this? Yeah that..."

chuck was stone faced. he ordered the same steak. he then asked about the wine selection. the waiter asked her the same.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I don't drink. Maybe the iced tea."

the waiter went off with their menus.

"You don't drink? I thought in college you were a connoisseur of sorts." chuck asked.

"I don't drink now. College was ancient history."

"It's been a while, huh. Do you still talk to the other guys? Your old dorm mates? Mel?"

she shuddered at the thought of mel. she hadn't even thought of that name for years.

"No, I haven't talked to them. I barely talk to anyone these days, other than work."

"Oh, okay."

their appetizers arrived. a basket of italian bread was on the side; she immediately went for a piece.

"I've been working with my old mates." said chuck. "We were part of a merger of our company and that really was a stepping stone for us-"

"Yeah, yeah, mhm." she wasn't paying any attention. she was busy buttering her bread stick.

"And that gave me a lot of opportunities and stuff. I got a new house, new car, first class on business trips..."

chuck went on clamoring about his mcmansion and second hand ferrari. it went on for a few minutes.

"Yeah, that's great." she mumbled, with bread in her mouth.

she went for the last two pieces of foccacia on the basket.

"Aren't you going to try the bread?" she asked. whether it was out of shame or politeness she did not know.

"No. You're emptying it anyways. Don't fill up."

she looked up and saw chuck with an expression of mild annoyance. she sat straight and offered him a bread stick.

"It's fine." chuck went to have a sip of his wine. "How about you, what have you been up to these days?"

somehow, she didn't expect to be asked that.

"I'm doing good. Stable office job."

"Yeah. Mhm."

there is a silence within the hubbub of diners. the bread she was eating tasted like it suddenly turned cold.

๐˜ง๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฌ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜บ.

"Soooo..." she mumbled. "The food here good?"

"You must be hungry." chuck tensed.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I was just tired the entire day and I didn't get to eat lunch..."

"Don't apologize. This is a dinner. We're here to eat."

"Yeah, and to get together."


๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฑ, ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ, ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ค๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ. ๐˜ช ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ.

"You did order quite a lot." chuck finished his wine.

"We'll share."

"It's fine. I'm trying to reduce, actually. Been working out and all."

"Oh, are you? Back in college you were quite big."

"...yes. Yes I was."

๐˜ช ๐˜ด๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต.


"Oh, excuse me." chuck had a phone call.

she looked around. everyone looked like they were enjoying themselves. she could see herself in one of the bar mirrors, with a pallid expression and subpar hair. she looked at chuck. he looked busy and executive. she could not deny that he looked well and good, but in her eyes she still sees a plump frat boy with badly oiled hair and spots painted with acne cream.

chuck's call ended as their order arrived. as it was all set she immediately started on her mushroom soup.

"Enjoy." chuck had another glass of wine.

she ate quickly. she ate her soup before it cooled down and ate her steak before it lost all of its red. she topped her italian swordfish with an orange mash potato and ate it with her salad. she downed three cups of iced tea and ordered another pitcher of it.

chuck ate his steak quietly, sipping his wine occasionally.

"You really are hungry." chuck finished his plate.

"Mhm, yes I am." she said, while admiring a piece of arugula.

chuck stared at her. she kept eating. this went on for several minutes.

"You know, I didn't expect this night to be like this." chuck leaned back.

that set her aback. she looked to see chuck looking slightly displeased.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I have to leave in about thirty or forty five minutes. My boss needs me. Can we check out early?"

"Oh, yes, of course." she dropped her fork. chuck called for the waiter.

her lightheadedness returned. the food did not help

"What did you mean you didn't expect the night to be like this?" she asked.

"Oh, it's nothing."

"No, come on, please. I'd like to know what you mean."

chuck swirled his wine around. "It's just that it's been a while, and I thought-" chuck paused for a moment. he took a sip.

"I thought you'd be different. I mean I don't mean different but you're different in a way I didn't expect."

๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฌ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ต. "I don't get it."

"No, I mean- you're not whom I expected. You know, I thought you'd be that old talk from college, you know-"

she was beginning to get it. "Did you talk to Geo before?"

"Yeah, I did." he finished his wine. the bottle had two more inches left.

that ruined it for her.

"I remember you being cheerful and chatty back then." said chuck. "You know, back in the old days, you were the girl who everyone looked up to, loud scholar and activist and all. Geo and your dorm mates had a lot to say about you."

๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฅ.

"And they always say, 'you were a mean drunk, you always wanted to talk, always had something to talk about.' Nothing that happened in your day was uninteresting for you, they say."

she pushed her plate away. "Well it's been a while, Chuck. It's not college anymore. Not that I agree with you, just- ugh, I dont know..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I didn't mean to ruin this date."

"Oh, yeah. It's a date." she feels like she needs to run away.

"But I hope you're doing well. I hope you enjoyed the food, at least."

"Okay." she said.

they sat in silence for a minute. chuck's eyes were still at her. she checked her phone. no charge.

the waiter came and went with the bill. they sat in silence as chuck finished the bottle of wine. she felt the need to say something.

"You know... I saw a weird hat earlier." she blurted.


"It was round, and made of plastic. It was like a bowl..."

"You mean a hardhat?"

๐˜ฐ๐˜ฉ, ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜บ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ... "Yeah, something like that."

more silence. it was beginning to turn unbearable.

she had to think of more things to say. she looked around, looked at chuck. she remembered. "What's in the bag?" she had to ask.

"Oh, nothing. Just my stuff." he raised it up. it looked like a fresh shopping bag.

๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฌ ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ต. ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ฉ ๐˜ง๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฌ ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ข ๐˜ด๐˜ถ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ฆ, ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต ๐˜ข ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ข๐˜จ...

"Anyways, I have to go." chuck stood. it was barely thirty minutes

"Oh, I'll come with you." she stood and went. it is raining outside.

his car was parked in the back, they had to run to the shade.

"Can I have a ride?" she asked, worriedly.

"No, I'm sorry, I have to go." chuck went and left on his rip off supercar. she was left on the sidewalk, in the pouring rain.


she arrived home, soaking.

she went straight to the bathroom. the rain was cold on her head, and gave her shivers. the lightheadedness turned into a headache.

she kneeled on the can. she threw up steak, and swordfish, and iced tea.

she took off all of her clothes and dried herself. she went to her living room and laid down on the carpet.

๐˜จ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ต, she thought. ๐˜ซ๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜จ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ต.

she sat and took her pen from the clothes bin. she opened her notebook.

"๐’“๐’‚๐’Š๐’ ๐’Š๐’ ๐’‚ ๐’‡๐’‚๐’•๐’†๐’๐’†๐’”๐’”
๐’ˆ๐’“๐’‚๐’š ๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’‘๐’–๐’๐’Š๐’”๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’•๐’˜๐’ ๐’š๐’†๐’‚๐’“๐’”...

๐˜จ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ช๐˜ต. ๐˜จ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ฏ.

she ripped the page off and wrote on a new one.

"๐’„๐’‰๐’–๐’„๐’Œ ๐’„๐’‚๐’ ๐’”๐’–๐’„๐’Œ ๐’‚ ๐’…๐’Š๐’„๐’Œ.

๐’ˆ๐’†๐’ ๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’•๐’‰๐’๐’”๐’† ๐’”๐’๐’–๐’•๐’” ๐’„๐’‚๐’ ๐’ˆ๐’

๐’†๐’‚๐’• ๐’‚ ๐’ƒ๐’‚๐’ˆ ๐’๐’‡ ๐’”๐’‰๐’Š๐’•."

she closed her notebook. she stared at the ceiling once more.

๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ง๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต, ๐˜ฉ๐˜ถ๐˜ฉ. ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ข ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ.

she closed her eyes and slept.
if you reached this far, that's awesome.

i won't make all of them that long, wink, but this one had to be long so that it's made clear how boring that date was.
274 · Dec 2020
a name Dec 2020
the pen dries on its tip
as a poem is not written

a sheet of paper flies away
as a sketch is not drawn

bronze strings tarnish
as a guitar is left untuned

things go to waste
when nothing happens

and nothing happens
when things waste away
im in an awful creative block rn
273 · Nov 2020
formal party
a name Nov 2020
the music's gone too long
the little rolls of fish gone cold
white noodles turn to pig feed
air rotted sweet

the last of my ***** was indulged
by her green dress and silver shoes
she definitely wanted to hit me
i saw in sooted eyes

i would've taken it gladly
you'd slap a ketchup bottle when its almost empty
i figure she doesnt like it in her prime rib

we were only there for the food
and the boring rewards
i enjoyed my **** breaks better
i've had better times in
long lines paying bills
no smoke machines there
except maybe me

the fog clears too
in indoor spaces
the forest duff's a bunch of wires
tea stained bedsheets
*****-coke and garlic rice

they played the songs ten times each
i danced in the quiet between
the circuit twirled as i ripped my thumbs
the balconies and trashcans dont mind the bored drunk

my green dress date sent me
a cursing smile
it was better than nothing
thanks for having me, hello poetry
262 · Nov 2021
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.
262 · Nov 2020
a smoke break
a name Nov 2020
i stood besides the grass
on an empty crossroad
the ants feed on the remnants of an empty can

i know i was quitting
but not immediately
if i did that i'd get mad
i was more myself with a cigarette

the lighter clicks
for my cherry scented stick of white
i'd take two per two days
three if i'm extra pathetic
i meander through my thoughts while i stand
like running through a road without lifting your feet
the little details hurtle around

on how blue the grass is
on how tall the sky grew
compared to the last time i was there
on how organized the ants go about
compared to the giant beside them
the smoke was whiter than the clouds
that covered a pleasant day

i stood like i was waiting
not for anything or anyone
but waiting
maybe for the rain
or a car
or that high i paid for
the loser smoked because his life was garbage
laying on the floor to be feasted by insects
i feel my life was not right
only because i knew it felt wrong
i must have tasted it before to know the difference

was it the times that school ended
was it the weekends between work
or that afternoon with a girl
or the **** we had after
was it the memory of a feeling
who's images were forgotten
but lingers nonetheless
was it from a child, or a lover,
or a drunk chainsmoker
was it even real
or true

the stick was left to its dead inch
the wait was over
and i parted from the ants
wrote it after failing to quit smoking
227 · Oct 2021
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.
213 · Nov 2020
seven billion
a name Nov 2020
all of them have mouths
that sing melodies
have ears
that dull the wind
that see masterpieces
that make more

all of them are poets
with scarred chests
with glorious ruins
with their own david
with their own odyssey

and to think our lives are special
seven billion works of art
to the canvas of their neighbor
to a subjective universe
a name Jul 2021
COME ON *****

the sky is darker than jet


i can smell the torrents from another town


my cigarette feels the wind of an angry god


and let me feel the power of faith



199 · Nov 2021
a name Nov 2021
belief sure is for stupid people
and i sure ain't going to school
186 · Feb 20
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
i have no more empty letters to give you
inspired by movie clips, and youtube edits
a name Jul 2021
honey, you're wonderful

and i thank you
for breaking my heart

i hoped i could repay you

with my love
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
180 · Dec 2020
a name Dec 2020
i half hoped the world around us
isn't so black and white

it's pretty, yes
but we've all seen prettier
175 · Jul 2021
a name Jul 2021
did you enjoy
not talking to anyone
not talking
not being anyone

did you have fun
were you sufficiently tanned
did you lose enough weight
or enough money

did you have fun
staring at palm trees
red skinned babies
half skinned foreign

it's real life too
there's beaches
ice cream sandwiches
things that rhyme
things that don't
but still sound pleasant

i admire you
brave to venture into comfort
into days outside of busy
busy different from busy

into new year's dances
bizarre summers
standing in lines worth waiting for

pink rooms
in shinjuku bars
thailand cowboys
amsterdam alleys

silent nights
in blue ridges
salt flats
memory lane

take me with you next time

to another vacation
to be lost in wherever
feeling like we belong

i'll be no one with you
158 · Aug 2021
a name Aug 2021
there's always a way
for us
to express ourselves

barely anyone here reads books
or poetry
barely anyone speaks of rizal
or jose corazon
why would they
it costs thought to digest balagtasan

poetry has to be complicated, it seems

but everyone's feelings are simple
even when it's complicated, too

i half thought simple poetry was an impossibility

but i am also an idiot

in rush hour at old katipunan
i boarded a taxi cab with broken windows
hot air out of it's vents
mud on its wheels

and it's driver had a phone call
"pasensya, di ako makakauwi ngayon,
kainin nyo nalang muna yung tira"

he looked as tired as a soldier
as tattered as the far road
looking like most of us
when ready
to give up

a motorcycle scraped the left door
roared through the avenue

and i could feel
what seems to be
entire centuries of anger
entire centuries
of not being able
to write like the spanish
or the american
or the japanese
or themselves

well, i do think we do have a piece of ourselves
in that shout
he could be swearing to the motorcyclist
or the dilapidated car
or the stupid government
and our stupid history

i'd like to believe
his entire week
was written
in that shout

and i knew i was wrong
oh, so wrong

there are poets everywhere
and you don't have to eat an old filipino dictionary
to say hate
or love
or the color of sunset
or the taste of a summer's day

it might not be as pleasant
as a frenchman saying several stanzas
only to insult someone's ***

eat your heart out, hemingway
our poets here only have to say three words
to mean so much

(granted, so do yours
but give me this one)

and i have learned what poetry means

i gave the driver 500 pesos for a drive two thirds that price

i should use more swear words now, then
quite a ramble from my old self, but it's ok
147 · Aug 2021
weightless at orbit
a name Aug 2021
on one half is the bright earth
the other is infinity

and we are in the edge
this must be the heaven
that beatrice meant

and we feel

you and me together
in each other's grasp

here we can watch the sunrise
twelve times per hour

here we are not stuck
to some dreary prison
of gravity
and the gravity of life

here we are close to gods

and they will allow
our love

this dance of ours
greater than any wedding waltz

with the music of space
the lullaby of creation

guiding us
to heavenly bliss

the last bliss

in space...
141 · Dec 2021
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
a name Jun 2021
i biked there all morning

i can see her gym pants hanging in the veranda. she still wears it even though its been years since high school.

there are thunder clouds in the sky. the day is beginning to erupt.

so am i. i've been waiting for an hour.

her inbox is littered with "wake up's". i typed down each letter of the alphabet in her chat after that got boring. when i ran out of letters i resorted to numbers.







my left leg is cramping






my right leg is cramping












69, god i wish i were doing that to you rn


i stopped and stared for a moment. the weather looks grim. i light a cigarette.

it tasted like sweat. so much sweat for so many people, and she was last on the list.

seven days ago i had perfected a kimchi recipe. it had my blood, sweat, and tears on it, mainly due to me handling hot chili powder.

it was the first thing i could taste for weeks then.

sure it was tangy and spicy and had a resemblance to boiled cardboard, but it tasted like triumph.

but i couldn't eat two liters of those so i packed it and gave it away. one to a friend, two to a friend, one to some other friend.

and one to her.

let them taste triumph. let them know that success is sour and hot and somewhat boring.

let them know that i am still alive and has a clean kitchen and functioning legs and a functioning cell phone.

let her know that i am okay

but i didn't know why i wanted her to know that

she didn't care. so should i likewise. why care about caring for someone who won't care back

i took a drag. i sigh. i remember why

"care. everyone should care. because everyone does in the end."

she said that, not me.

i reach a breaking point. i close my eyes

i imagine her with another man. he's taller by another inch, his hair is waxed, he's in the same university and the same sidewalk and the same elbows as the one i liked.

i imagine her crying. she's always crying. she has him come closely with a drink in hand and paper towels.

i imagine the scene in the pulpit stairs where they pose for pictures, her in her perfect white gown with flowers in her hair, him in his candlestick head and soot black italian suit. and me in the back of the crowd, with rotten cabbage in my backpack and sweat in my shoulders.

i throw the ****** kimchi at her veranda. let her pants know what triumph tastes like, for all i care.

i run from her street, leaving my poor bike as witness. i run and run and run and run until my legs tear off and my arms fly away. i run away from some ****** past and all those ****** choices. i run until i'm dead. i have never felt so alive.


i open my eyes. the sun shines.



i mount my bike. i let plan b know that i am coming to her house. she's also not awake.

pedal pedal pedal. god i feel so weak. i am the strongest man in these streets.


i arrive at north. her windows are barred.








oh hey good morning. how long have you been waiting? you biked all the way?

i met her a few months ago. her hair is pretty. i know i'm going to ***** this one up too.

she was right with that quote.



130 · Nov 2021
pencil piece
a name Nov 2021
is this what you are? i asked



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.
123 · Nov 2020
a name Nov 2020
rage has visited
this empty husk
he brought with him
the drums
which pounded for every war
every fight
every bored bystander
every pale *******
every dark survivor
everyone who's lost their hearts
in that way or the other
rage has come
for me

the air angered him
the water tasted like vinegar
a whisper from the wind
every bark or whistle
a scream

i am not well
i told rage

i know
that's why i grace you

let it flow from your wrists
your scalp
your nails

slam your fists into the concrete
dig until you find
a peaceful coffin
you can stuff yourself into

move your arms
every time i pound
move like a soldier
to flaunt to the world
that peace is lost

allow me to fall
let it wash over me
allow me to break
to bend
to chip

let it be
120 · Jul 2021
how long has it been
a name Jul 2021


the music whispered to him
he's never felt this before
but it felt like everything

it was the cruel heat of the afternoon
and the boiling skin of an alcoholic
that dried his tears

and he tried to remember

what is now
television static

and an endless hum
from broken air-conditioning

and dead rotting fm radios

how dead rotting memories
reminded him of what once was


it's her


her eyes were blue

and she smelled like fish
and gasoline

her skin was red-purple

her words were poisonous

ฮน ฯ‰ฮนโ„“โ„“ ฮทั”ฮฝั”ั ฦ’ฯƒัgั”ั‚ ัƒฯƒฯ…, she said

out loud

in a decrepit cathedral, her words echoed

her family of skeletons were there

his family of maggots were, too

god was their witness, but he was busy with another billionaire

it was the most beautiful day in their lives
and now this is all he sees

some pastel hell by bosch

with pointless dalinian remnants
of hours trying to figure out

why it had to end that way

oh, why it had to end

it ended

but you left it in a ****** to **** state, the ends of the threads

and now
confusion will never leave

the music
will sound of unborn mosquitoes

untuned pianos

her voice in lullaby, stretched to infinity

his silent, muffled, choking screaming



how long has it been

it doesn't matter

this will last

written in a drunken haze, while listening to
120 · Aug 2021
the haiku writer, prologue
a name Aug 2021
๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’–๐’ ๐’”๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’†๐’” ๐’‡๐’๐’“ ๐’๐’๐’†
๐’˜๐’‰๐’ ๐’˜๐’‚๐’Š๐’•๐’” ๐’‡๐’๐’“ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’•๐’๐’“๐’Ž ๐’•๐’ ๐’†๐’๐’…
๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’๐’๐’˜ ๐’•๐’ ๐’Ž๐’†๐’๐’•

a girl is sitting on a hill watching the shadow of a thunderhead wash over a near meadow. she can hear its murmur, smell its presence, feel the cold of the wind.

๐’”๐’•๐’‚๐’“๐’” ๐’Š๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’„๐’๐’”๐’Ž๐’๐’”
๐’”๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’ƒ๐’“๐’Š๐’ˆ๐’‰๐’•๐’†๐’“ ๐’•๐’‰๐’‚๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’Ž๐’๐’๐’
๐’ƒ๐’–๐’• ๐’ƒ๐’‚๐’“๐’“๐’†๐’… ๐’ƒ๐’š ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’Œ๐’š

the grass around her is in fast forward, growing and fruiting and dying and it's children growing anew. the sun and moon race above her, appearing as bands of light in the azure-slate gradient of heaven.

she can see mountains and cities and skyscrapers with their stellar shine rise and fall on the horizon. she can see fire and smoke and fireworks and steam engines flutter in the endless stretch.

๐’†๐’—๐’†๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’„๐’๐’๐’–๐’…๐’” ๐’‡๐’‚๐’…๐’†
๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’•๐’‰๐’“๐’๐’–๐’ˆ๐’‰ ๐’Š๐’•๐’” ๐’‡๐’–๐’“๐’Š๐’๐’–๐’” ๐’…๐’†๐’‚๐’•๐’‰
๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’…๐’‚๐’š ๐’”๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’†๐’” ๐’ƒ๐’“๐’Š๐’ˆ๐’‰๐’•๐’†๐’”๐’•

but the storm cloud she's watching moves slowly, seemingly detached from the speed of everything else. every strike of it's lightning shredding what it touches to grain and noise.

๐’๐’๐’•๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’๐’‚๐’”๐’•๐’” ๐’‡๐’๐’“ ๐’๐’๐’๐’ˆ
๐’ƒ๐’–๐’• ๐’†๐’—๐’†๐’“๐’š๐’•๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’…๐’๐’†๐’” ๐’“๐’†๐’•๐’–๐’“๐’
๐’Š๐’ ๐’‚๐’๐’๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’“ ๐’˜๐’‚๐’š

the storm cloud grew. it reached the mountains and the cities. it seemed to be approaching the girl's hill. she feels a chill.

she stood. she felt a sprig of fear. she feels like she needs to run away.

๐’˜๐’‚๐’•๐’„๐’‰ ๐’๐’–๐’•, ๐’๐’Š๐’•๐’•๐’๐’† ๐’ˆ๐’Š๐’“๐’.

๐’‘๐’๐’†๐’Ž๐’” ๐’‚๐’“๐’† ๐’˜๐’†๐’‚๐’Œ๐’†๐’“ ๐’•๐’‰๐’‚๐’ ๐’ƒ๐’๐’๐’•๐’”

๐’‰๐’๐’•๐’•๐’†๐’“ ๐’•๐’‰๐’‚๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’–๐’

she stared at the sky. a flash appears-

ring ring

she awoke to the sound of an alarm. it's lunchtime in her office. she was glad no one caught her sleeping.

the papers she was sleeping on all spilled to the ground. she looked around her surroundings. people in phone calls, people leaving for food, people sleeping as well.

๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ข ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ, she thought. ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ข ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜บ.

she picked up her papers and stood.

she looked outside her window. there is a storm cloud in the horizon...
note: bold italic font may not work for some mobile devices

hello, i am writing a short novel of sorts. some of it's chapters i will post on hello poetry, so if you're interested, have a view on my account or give me a follow (i follow back).

what i write is pretty long, so if you're not into that, cheers anyways. otherwise, do enjoy
117 · Jul 2021
a name Jul 2021
it is an afternoon
and i have a drawn painting
hanging on my wall

no moon on it,
nor stars,
not even an atmosphere.

it is white
with a crude illustration
of a carrot inside a cup.

and i'm mad

i take the bus route from fairview to new york
it is an afternoon
and i have a camera with me

zen, i said to myself
there is zen in art
and action

but not with madmen
who only takes pictures
of street signs
and dead frogs
and harsh houses
filled with tiny thieves

i look at their eyes
they look back
my fingers turn into fists

i run to my favorite place
a pub with faceless drunks
loud loutish lovers
and smiths of all sort

it is not my favorite place,
one bit of me decided.
it is loud
and the beer is overpriced

no it isn't
the beer is normal priced
you're paying for peanuts.

i take a sip
no, i am mad

i take a swig
no, they're still waiting for you
at home
or at the slums
or school

i smash the bottle on the counter
and eat the little pieces
soaked in beer sauce

i can enjoy this, i thought
i've tasted worse
from better people

i wake up. my peanuts are gone.
i had five bottles of black stout

home, then
person, homme
remember who you are

it is the new moon
but it didn't matter

they changed the streetlamps into LED's
and now everything looks like

it bothers me
things that are real

the way ahead is glowing
the last stars left are on the horizon
slums, and streetlamps, and stray lightbulbs.

i run

i have been doing quite a lot of running.

from things that are not chasing me

i ran from dogs, cats

beautiful women, ugly men

with ugly rewards

from the ether of my own past

and the solipsism of my incoming future

no, i am mad.

i walk

there is a light on my right side


an old toyota.

i wake up with the asphalt on my cheeks.

it is night

it is warm, somehow

i was fine

i stand up, the driver looked at me

it was probably not that serious anyways
especially since it's just me

sir, your arm

no, i am okay.

no, i am not, you owe me beers

okay. go home.



it is day.

my keys are under the flowerpot
and everything is locked.

my arm felt like a limp stem
of some sad vegetable

i enter. there are smashed up plates and cups on the floor.

i open my bag. the camera wasn't even there. it was on my other bag. (******)

upstairs, ripped paper all over. sketches. school stuff. letters.

and the painting

there is nothing on the painting.

it is white bristol board taped to a wall.

and it had nothing.


one of several poems i'm writing about my mental illness and my current world.

this one's about me back then when i would just wander. wandering makes you lose your sense of safety. it always felt like i wasn't me when i went off.
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.
113 · May 2021
a name May 2021
i have you in my arms.

the world blurs away
as the auburn shadow of the venue
shines through closed eyes

the slow guitars reverberate
through an empty ballroom
a sacred sound for sacred bonds
we dance slowly in devotion.

i have you by my side.

tomorrow fades from sight
as the incandescence of a city
shines through a kitchen window

with wet, cold hands
music from an old radio play
harmonizing with the droning tap
we sway slowly in peace.

i have you close to me.

the cold of the outside air
is warmed by tender souls
in amorous union

while we hum the notes
of our favorite song
the solitude of a vacant lot
heartened by a waltzing pair

and time disappears
and nothing really matters
but the two of us, and the music
the back and forth
and the serenity

for i have you in my arms...
113 · Nov 2021
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.
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
108 · Jul 2021
things that take time
a name Jul 2021
they waited nine months for a girl
only to have a rascal

i waited three hours for a cake
only to have charcoal

the apostles waited three days for glory
until they noticed the smell

i waited for you
for ten weeks
six days
twelve hours
and thirteen minutes

only for a no

sometimes, things that take time

are not worth it in the end
i am a very bad baker
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.


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.




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.


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.




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.


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

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

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

i like them too. those times will come again.


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.


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.


we broke distance again. better be safe.

she laughs. her expression became dissolute.

keep your worm pill. come here.



a name Aug 2021
"๐’”๐’๐’Ž๐’†๐’•๐’Š๐’Ž๐’†๐’” ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’˜๐’Š๐’๐’… ๐’”๐’๐’๐’˜๐’”
๐’‡๐’๐’“ ๐’–๐’” ๐’•๐’ ๐’‚๐’๐’ ๐’“๐’†๐’Ž๐’†๐’Ž๐’ƒ๐’†๐’“
๐’‰๐’๐’˜ ๐’˜๐’‚๐’“๐’Ž ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’…๐’‚๐’š ๐’Š๐’”"

...๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ต, "๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ถ๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ"? ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ฒ๐˜ถ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ...

she left work early to venture out on the last day of the month.
she told her manager she had plans with family, but that was nowhere near the truth; she had a dinner plan with someone far from anywhere related to her.

she took her pay and went off.

the afternoon looked grim. the road looked grimmer. the sun looked tired and the world looked tiring. for her it was not a particularly good day to exist.
neither will the night be any different, she presumes. at least she was paid.

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ต. ๐˜ช ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ข ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ, she thought.

the bus she boarded had rusty railings and handles ready to fall off.
it was still early so there weren't much passengers. there were three, she counted, not including the driver and the conductor. she took her seat in the back so she could watch their heads.

"๐’๐’๐’† ๐’˜๐’†๐’‚๐’“๐’” ๐’‚ ๐’ƒ๐’†๐’‚๐’๐’Š๐’†
๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’๐’‚๐’…๐’š ๐’‰๐’‚๐’” ๐’”๐’–๐’๐’”๐’†๐’• ๐’‰๐’‚๐’Š๐’“
๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’๐’‚๐’”๐’• ๐’๐’๐’๐’Œ๐’” ๐’๐’Š๐’Œ๐’†... ๐’–๐’‰...... uhhhh..."

she lost focus. it started to rain, and she remembered she didn't bring an umbrella. the dilapidated bus windows won't close.

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜จ๐˜ถ๐˜บ'๐˜ด ๐˜ญ๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฌ๐˜บ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ'๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ข ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต. ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜จ๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ญ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฅ๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ณ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ, ๐˜ด๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ'๐˜ด ๐˜จ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ณ๐˜บ ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ง๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ป๐˜ป ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ. ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ, ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ...?

the guy (or girl?) was wearing something unusual; it looked like it was made from plastic and resembled a waxed salad bowl. she spent her entire bus ride thinking about the peculiar headpiece and being bothered by the splash of the rain.

๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ง๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜บ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด?

she took her stop and quickly went into her building. the garbage bags she put outside weren't picked up by the trucks. she stopped and stared for a moment to ponder.

๐˜ช๐˜ต'๐˜ด ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ. ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ฉ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ. ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ถ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฌ ๐˜จ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ. ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ค ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ.

her apartment was cold and grey as well. she grabbed her watering pail as she entered and went straight to her plants. she feels suffocated. she had half hoped that the plants she bought would make her place look a little brighter and make the air a little fresher.  
instead the pots cramped her place a bit more and attracted ants to live in the soil.

afterwards she set a kettle to boil and went to pass out on her couch. the day was still grim. it seemed its only been grim all these days. she thought of how long it's been since she was in a cheerful mood.

๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜บ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ข. ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ง๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ต. ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ต๐˜บ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜บ.

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ ๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜จ๐˜ฐ...

she stared at the scene in front of her. the steam from the kettle, the array of unwashed dishes, the shadow of the rain streaming on her kitchen floor.

she sat upright and opened her notebook on the coffee table.

"๐’“๐’‚๐’Š๐’ ๐’Š๐’ ๐’‚ ๐’‡๐’‚๐’•๐’†๐’๐’†๐’”๐’”
๐’ˆ๐’“๐’‚๐’š ๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’‘๐’–๐’๐’Š๐’”๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’•๐’˜๐’ ๐’š๐’†๐’‚๐’“๐’”...

-๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ? ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ... ๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฉ ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ด...

...๐’˜๐’‰๐’‚๐’• ๐’‚ ๐’˜๐’๐’๐’…๐’†๐’“๐’‡๐’–๐’- ๐’–๐’‰....

-๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ, ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜บ ๐˜ด๐˜บ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด...

...๐’˜๐’‰๐’‚๐’• ๐’‚ ๐’๐’Š๐’„๐’† ๐’˜๐’‚๐’š ๐’•๐’...


she closed her notebook and threw her pen at the clothes bin. she stood and went to the bathroom, and splashed her face.

๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฅ ๐˜ช ๐˜จ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด. ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜บ. ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฆ๐˜น๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ.

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ'๐˜ด ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜บ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ธ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ต, ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ.

๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ, ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข ๐˜ณ๐˜ฉ๐˜บ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ...

she wiped herself with a towel and stared at her face. her eyes were starting to grow bags. her makeup wore off and a zit revealed itself on her chin.

๐˜ช ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ, ๐˜ช'๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ด๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฑ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ...

๐˜จ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ช ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฌ ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ต.

๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฌ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ. ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ'๐˜ด ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ.

๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ต, ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ. ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฎ. ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ'๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด.

she took one last look at herself. she passed a comb through her hair once and decided it was enough. she went to fix herself some tea and gave up halfway. she decided to sleep until she has to go.

laying down, she meandered through her thoughts.

๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ? ๐˜ช ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต. ๐˜ช ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ช'๐˜ฎ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ. ๐˜ช ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜บ ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฌ ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ.

๐˜ช ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฌ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ ๐˜จ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฆ๐˜ง๐˜ถ๐˜ญ, ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ. ๐˜ช ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฌ ๐˜ช'๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ.

๐˜ช ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜บ, ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ'๐˜ด ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ ๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ. ๐˜ช ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฌ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ต. ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฌ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜บ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ, ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜บ. ๐˜ช ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ.

she slept for an hour and a half.


the alarm was deafened by her pillow. she woke up startled to the blue of dusk. the rain had stopped.

๐˜ฐ๐˜ฉ, ๐˜ค๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ

she stood quickly and fixed herself up. she had thirty minutes to her appointment, and there was no time to fix anything else. she grabbed her bag and left the apartment.

the trash left outside was torn apart by some street animal. it made a stench while she waited for a taxi.

"Italliani's, please. Near Westwood."

the place was a twenty minute ride from her apartment. the series of avenues around it was her favorite to sightsee from a car. high rise buildings and bright signs from old shops. but all the nighttime scenery wasn't quite ready yet, and all was awash in the blue of dusk.

she hated dusk. for her it was a dim and dull sight that remains of sunset, and nowhere near the shine and glory of the afternoon. she hated night more, and dreaded the idea that she would have to commute after dinner, provided that her date goes awry.

her date was waiting for her on the sidewalk. he had a paper bag on his left.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I was busy at work."

"You were from work? Are those your work clothes?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Rain didn't help either. Are we... ready?"

105 · Oct 2021
a name Oct 2021
i wish i wasn't sober but
they cost a lot
quiteย ย aย ย bit
of top dollar
just for one
littleย ย fix
theย ย one
floral mix
madeย ย  of
crushed grapes
and roasted barley
and given a little bit of time
to rot and ferment and boil
to be servedย ย  toย ย  those fermenting
and rotting,ย ย  and boiling,ย ย  in time
hello bartender, give me something
i haveย ย  neverย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย tastedย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย  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,ย ย  they cost a lot,ย ย quite a bit
you could tell i started with a bottle but ended up with an inverted wine glass
103 · Mar 15
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
102 · Jul 2021
pick one
a name Jul 2021
would you love him
if he was a doctor

you two found each other
in a university
cutting cadavers and smoking formaldehyde
and you two learned about your own bodies
slicing off each other's love

it could end up
in a suburban hell
or a morgue

would you love him
if he was a lawyer

oh, he's so smart
he could argue with the teachers
and when you two argued
it was like cleopatra and mark something
kissing on the pyramids

it could end up
in divorce
after you two argue about the price of milk

would you love him
if he was a writer

he could sway you like yeats
and sleep you to bed like morrissey
talk to the neighbors like chomsky
out drink you like any drunken rambler

it could go well
or it could end up like neruda

i don't care
who you love

if you loved me
i could ruin it too

just know
we're all so very stupid
and oh so very human

even if we're so great
101 · Oct 2021
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

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
99 · Nov 2021
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

like the colors of that sky
when the day ended

i am intoxicated by your scent

and i am intoxicated
by your memory
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