How would you look at her in her eyes
And tell her she's not happy?
How does one make her realize,
That her life is a pity party?
Though she'd say she's okay,
That she eventually had a reason,
Will she recognize such a priori?
Or sink in an afterlife of beacon?
God bless her and no one else,
May the angels, "In Excelsis Deo" eternally.
She could've had different shells,
Instead, she'd chosen her voice's echo.
How does one look into someone's life
And show her that she could be,
If only she knot a different tie,
A different world she could've seen.

You're not the one who could comfort;
Neither shoulders to cry on.
You might have prepared to say some words;
Save them; be needed, they won't.
As much as someone was there waiting,
For your call that didn't ring,
This situation shall forever sing,
The epic cycle of emptiness where we're living in.
I do hope that it is true,
That one day, without looking, you'll find,
Someone who'll lift you from the blues,
And realize, "Hey, we're two of the same kind."

Could it be problem sleeping
When sleeping is the problem?
What if the actual dozing
Is the source of the whole mayhem?

After nighttime, sunrises,
Lights up yet fails to beam up one's day,
Instead, probes your supposed places,
A fertile loam where anxiety can play.

I don't know what I'm waiting for,
Still I wait for it anyway.
May I find ways towards humor,
Maybe life and I can meet halfway.

Is this what ought to be,
Are these the sights I wanna see?
Is this how I wanna feel,
Each day the sunrise turns real?

This was dreamland of yesteryears,
Now a solid ground for hope and fears.
Young and stupid or old and wise?
Breathe; and tell yourself what applies.

Live; and remember these days,
This surely is a way how a story plays.
Gravitate towards your center,
There are new places we're about to enter.

kamusta ka?
kamusta araw mo?
ah ganun ba..
ako din
bawal madaya!
just play along
yaan mo na yun!
kumain ka na?
ligo lang ako
nakita mo na ba yung post?
***** tayo
dito na ako
saya no?
next time ulit
i like this

The task is to make you feel how I miss you beyond the three words.
I'm lost as to how to do that.
Perhaps let me just describe the things I yearn.
The uneasy lips that are either inexperienced or apprehensive.
The sudden pull of your arms when I am about to let go.
Those eyes seeing through me as you gaze silently.
The warmth of your body as it glides through my mortal secrecies.
The way you pronounce my name.
Your arms around me like the world could care less.
Your feet talking to my feet in language they only understand.
The sound of your breath -- a mixture of exhaustion and ecstasy.
The care, the cuddle, the comfort.

Though I might be romanticizing.

All I wanted to say is that I miss you.

And so I told them they can tell me,
That sharing wouldn't be a problem.
Assured them that whatever be,
I will be here for them.

I said many things, big and small,
Comforted one and all.
For if someone will break down and fall,
I'll be responsible for their lost soul.

Be this, be that,
Be whatever you want.
The problem's nowhere's at,
Just let it lie flat.

One thing I forgot though,
Is listen to what I was saying.
Apparently, my words are my foe,
And to them I am losing.

A slap to oneself,
A blow to one's ego.
Never be shy to cry for help,
Yourself do not forego.

Help me not to lie,
Don't ask the questions.
Within, I will just sigh,
Used up all my limited options.
Hope's a *******, a sham;
-- Please remember thee
I am,
What you want me to be.

Opened the pandora's box
Yet
Again.
This time I know I will be Stronger.
Aggression,
Assertion.
tbc

Long overdue it may seem,
But it feels like it's gonna make it.
Wanted to write though light's dim,
It's still gonna fit.
I should've known more,
Than to read what musn't be read.
Maybe I was just for those who bore,
I see to it they are fed.
But what I really wanna say,
Is how the wind kissed me back.
While a visit I made to pay,
Invited me to the familiar track.
One thing I have to admit,
What was blurred was now crystal.
Not how you, them or I treat,
Closer and starving, the cold water was too good for it.

The life I created is about to pop,
Worse days are about to drop,
Seeing the end of the simulation,
What was was indeed an illusion.

I think I’ve forgotten how to dream,
My mind’s looping a silent scream,
Losing myself, feeling like a waste,
A sorry excuse for a life misplaced.

“Your sob story is not that special,
Stop being too **** sentimental,”
These I tell myself every waking day,
Figuring out how it is to, again, be okay.

“Just go and do something about it,”
So hard when I just really want to quit.
It feels I’m just watching myself from afar,
Seeing he’s given up in his personal war.

Maybe I’ll wake up soon and feel better,
Maybe I’ll dream again and find my center,
I don’t know when for I lost all my hope,
I’m no longer living for all I do now is cope.

And so the 1059
days
that. ended.
Woke you up
Intertwined,
Kissing your pillow.
Shall it
.
v
...
?

Safe to assume there're infinite number of lines,
Although illogical, 'twas the conclusion of that time.
Then I fool myself,
Or was I accepting the Truth,
Validating past instances,
that
This's just another phase.

They'd ask, "How are you?"
I'd say, "I'm okay."
"You sure?," they pull it through.
"I'm just tired," I say.

But what I don't tell is that,
I'm not just tired.
With every worn hat,
I just wanna be fired.

Sleep won't fix this.
I need some break.
Maybe a few minutes,
Those I would take.

I need to part ways, I think,
From life even.
I'm at the brink,
Looking for my own haven.

You’ve stood your ground all your life,
You’ve dug graves that goes too deep.
A momentary bow from the fight,
In order for yourself to keep.

What little of what remains,
Visions, faith and hope,
They shall remain in the veins,
But now they need to cope.

You’ll never die for reasons you wouldn’t know,
Yours will remain intact even after the glow.
Let the initial curtains bow low,
You’re in it for an even better sequel of the show.

When’s have always been reminders of solitude,
Cementing two and half decades of a fact,
That humanity, in its entire multitude,
Seemed to miss the better half of your story’s act.

Thus, you leapt; thus, you lost and learned,
Not once was the game won, not even close,
And you settle with consolation you think you earned;
Proceed with the radical acceptance of aloneness.

For how long, for now I cannot tell,
As it is both within and not in my control,
Here’s to hoping this treaty with oneself goes well,
It could be or perhaps nothing at all.

I fear the day that I start learning,
As knowing will eventually make me stop caring.
Well I am afraid I have no choices,
I just have to play and jump through the phases.

While nothing is wrong with changing,
I don't want to lose the sense of my being.
We hope we turn out better,
So we have something good saved for later.

Out of sight, out of mind,
May some peace we eventually find.
We seek hoping we're sought,
At least we'd say we fought.

I would like to believe that someday I will find my way home.
A place, no, a feeling that I can emphatize with wholeheartedly.
Somewhere where my skin fits perfectly free to roam,
Where tears that stream down would end abruptly.
A man is free to dream to be with whom he wants to be,
Perhaps in heavens of whispers on secret room escapades,
Or on the free road with festive decors that lets an unending flow of glee,
Bursts of joy that would make someone hopeless feel saved.
The waves of the oceans of uncertainties will be crashed,
By the roots and foundation of courage and liberty,
The winds of shame will be hushed,
It is time for the well of hatred, imprisonment, and drama to feel thirsty.
All in good time will we reach the moon ever evasive,
We aren't fools who won't stand true to what we desire.
We are what we are - purposive.
We are everything except people who tire.

When you starting asking why,
Things get a little shaky.
This question will just try,
Boggle your mind that was all ready.

But you keep on doing what you do,
Even though you can't understand.
To your beliefs you'll remain true,
Everyone can always reach for your hand.

This is the kind of love that I have.
A kind that completes everyones halves.
A kind of love that transcends.
A kind of live that you can't comprehend.

And the thought arrived and it demanded to be written,
As if it was some nation’s citizen deserving of life and liberty,
Still we see our fingers working, our thoughts spreading,
Thus we succumb, thus we surrender, thus we write.

The ideal is known as sitting under a tree, running through forest,
Grasping for air yet losing it all on undying laughter,
Was it something I said or is it because this is my first time?
Convincing myself I have stopped thinking about it yet here we are.

These pillows have lived in parallel universes and realities,
Looking far wondering, “Is this how they see us? How they feel?”
With lofi beats as soundtrack of this rainy  and chilly afternoon,
We were reminded yet again of whom we’ve been.

And so thoughts will keep on demanding, will keep on arriving,
It’s for us to stitch them to a larger narrative — not snippets but cores,
This way we will know who we will be because of them good old days,
When you find yourself sitting on a different, yet emotionally familiar place.

It was another journey to write a story
So we unify with all the parts defeating gaps
Then we heard songs that were keys to the sunrise
That was blinding yet was just about to be

We welcome our guests for some chats
Hearing your thoughts with full clarity
That one of the reasons why
As it is just part of your long allegory

Like the dawn I also realized one thing
That is yet to be stronger echoing back
That voice that will call the commonality
And on that day -- we will all be free

It started a new daydream nonetheless,
Those resting motions welcomed with vibration.
The heat on the back that pressed,
Is a feeling beyond sensation.

Thought the twist was possible,
Yet nope I say so.
It was rational to think it was probable,
No regrets though for putting a go.

Watch me learn I warn,
I hope I don’t get pulled to something nasty,
‘Cause when it’s time to run,
I’ll leap through space and time in ecstasy.

Marahil ay yun nga,
Bagay na dapat ay batid na,
Mahilig ka sa pinagmumukha
Kang tanga.
Di ito drama pagkat ito'y
Tuwa.
Sa dami ng salita ko'y
May nagpapatahimik bigla.
Saan ka, Tata?
Saan ka, ligaya?

Which would be of less guilt?
To understand and act on it?
Or to dumb down and follow it?

Understanding the error
Is a personal horror
That disturbs you to the core.

The emptiness that isn't new,
You left and let grew,
Feeds on and consumes the nothingness, too.

A tear that won't fall,
Pain that can stall,
Silence that shouts a call.

The Civil Wars was on,
And I remembered them heroes.
They danced at the end of love.
Cerulean and crimson circulated.
Excitement; not fear.
Then I saw them bright.
Buildings. Varying.
Length. Everything.
They do know.
For those who understand;
They do understand.
Looked at the moon.
Clouds by passed.
The moon's still there.
Everything is.
You were here.
Even if I haven't met you.

It started as a counterfactual,
A means to test a personal theory of change,
Assessed which thoughts had the turn to be vocal,
Decided to give space for the ones on the positive range.

One must learn how to drench oneself in the sea of light,
Just how one dives in the depth of darkness.
One must acknowledge that warmth is possible,
In the same way that cold is inevitable.

How to sustain is a problem for another day,
What’s vital is to live where we are, when we are.
Let the the twists of the many plots roll and play,
Yes, we are near; and yes, we are far!

We learn who we are by knowing who we are not,
We try, we risk, we take a chance,
We may not have the others’ lot,
We still have some rhythm for our personal dance.

Unload yourself with the romanticized fiction,
Listen to the voices that truly matter.
Focus on a worthwhile direction,
Surprise yourself as you go farther and further.

Always this, but never that.
Comparisons made at.
It'll never overlap,
An eternal void, infinite gap.

Whatever gold I have,
Falls short of what I want.
Am I ungrateful or what?
I just want this to shut.

An innocent question, I have
I wonder if a time has passed,
If in your mind you had,
An idea of me that dashed.

I guess I'll never stop,
Having your thoughts inside.
To empty faith, I'll hop,
Lose myself, lose my guide.

For tonight was about tears and trying,
Yet it shall be the last,
We shall continue dreaming,
Pursue hope not mere lust.
Now we know we hold such character,
What shall be, still unknown,
We'll get there, happier,
Trust in the break of dawn.

An affirmation of distance of what is and what needs to be,
No wonder one sees and feels similar sequences.
That which lives privy haven't yet been freed,
The self is pretty far from effectuating further phases.

"It started a new daydream nonetheless,"
An old line proving pragamatic in the contemporary.
Followed by a sudden halt, the endless pause pressed,
Cave in, yield, and wait for things to be once more arbitrary.

We'll wake up and count the sum of the days,
How what was months before was now in full tilt.
Let a new day take over as time surely pays,
As an exhilirative eventuality is bit by bit being built.

Creating realities after realities is a nice practice,
A bit dangerous as well when done myopically.
The ability to empathize to points of others’ specificity,
Writes a narrative now more than one can see.

We take our blinders off,
And open the doors of the world.
Be cautious in listening to the self alone,
For other beats may give you a better rhythm.

Why remain the protagonist
In an epic of false dichotomies?
When you can be no one
In a prose that makes sense arguably?

A step back is a mere change of direction,
Nothing is similar as fire may be the basic stuff of the universe.
Breathe the air of the proverbially found boys,
Yet be sharp to be conscious of the notes you hear that you enjoy.

There's something about this rain.

There's water.
Not any other water.

They come from homes,
rooms, streets, anywhere.

This is what I need for the solitude;
For a man still burning like a church on fire.

Thinking of you when I'm under the weather might not be the best course of action. For when I do so, I get a weird mix of joy, sadness, and confusion.
Everytime I hear the phone ring, knowing that it will be your voice on the other line; I want to feel that I am saved but I know I will not be fine.

While it is crystal to me that you are, indeed, looking for, whatever, I don't know; My first instinct is that your voice is some music I have to follow.
Thousand scenarios have occurred in my head where I finally confront and tell you that whatever this is has to end; Yet I have never actualized any, for at the moment, you are the only friend who would understand and have listened.

Every night I grab a pillow and pretend that it is you; Speaking to it and sharing imaginations 'til past two.
Immortalizing what has happened during those nights; Which to be honest were not walks in the park with bright lights.

To want and be wanted is what we, or perhaps I, desire. It's a human need that I believe is so dire.
For when lips lock, bodies touch, and breath shared; We make a world of our own where we know that we dared.

Yet our tied moments are loose and blurry; Cause I know that you are not into me as I am into your story. I have always felt that I am not the narrative you long to read; And that you just let me in to play for a pity-feed.

At this point, I would like to ask for your help, an intervention perhaps. Would you be so kind by being unkind and don't let this, for another time, relapse. Addiction can only be cured through good substitution and rehabilitation; So please cut the act as a psychedelic and save me from this spiral of hunger and frustration.

Set me free and I will be free; Take all the happiness and I'll have the rest gladly.
I just really want this to be over, to be done; For what you want me to be, I don't want to become.

Were you led?
You're unsure.
One thing's certain,
You tried.
You said,
'Might capture,'
Then again,
Kinda denied.
Can't comprehend,
Thoughts're pure.
Sorta friend,
Hope wanna fight.
Mixed ends,
Mental torture,
Friend or fiend?
Light or night?

Of all the liberties I have,
There's three I wanna add.
Want them binding, tied.

To look for you,
To look at other,
To look at the both of us.

To think of the riddle,
To think unhealthy,
To think dying?

To be sad.
To be mad.
To be afraid.

To Miss,
To Be Jealous,
To Worry.

It’s been three moons since I bought some freedom,
With my days starting getting soaked in the sunlight,
Feeling the crawling warmth of a new day’s blossom,
Looking at the Sierra Madre - calmness in sight.

Filling myself with smokes and coffee for breakfast,
Getting ready for the worlds I’ll enter and visit,
Living in fictions of future, present, and past,
Vicariously leading varied characters’ spirit.

Witnessing the world continue when you hit pause,
A sensation that is both humbling and confusing,
While it’s liberating to have no any kind of boss,
I sometimes question if I could still do some thinking.

In the long run I know I’ll surely thank myself,
For allowing this mind and body to breathe for a while,
It is true that within you you’ll find one true help,
Each day’s culminated with a gracious smile.

A practice in solitude despite feelings of being afraid,
I just remind myself of what Seneca once said himself,
“What progress, you ask, have I made?
I have begun to be a better friend to myself.”

The curtain call,
the final cut.
Scripts let go and costume's off.
The bow.
Led to another,
freed.

Am I now allowed to say,
"I'd always wanted to..
From the moment I saw you."

Now the Notes to Self sings,
The Lost Boy who's now Golden,
After traversing the Highway of Fallen Kings
Yells "Please Don't Find Me" no more.

Uncuffed and of no Shame,
The Wild Things Took You To Church knowing
that It Will Come Back.

Every Walk That I've Ever Taken Has Been In Your Direction.

Knowing that Every Teardrop is a Waterfall,
The Wolves Without Teeth,
Finally, 42.

This is how we change the rythm of the world.
No more good, no more bad
Just a more vivid honesty.

For the past days, I've been talking to the moon.
I have asked her, "Oh dear, how soon?"
Free me from my chains, free me from my home,
Allow me again to wander, allow me to roam.

But the other end of the escape has been little scary,
Thinking about it just makes me worry.
Even the supposed sunrise I may meet,
Became a sunset blinding the ways of my feet.

The day I have feared has come,
No more place to call home, I'm done.
Both ends have become really thought prisons,
I see my end with the hue of crimson.

On your own, you think you are,
Your mind travels so, so far.
But you don't know which way to go,
Peace of mind, you're just begging so.

Every flip means death,
A burial you set yourself.
There's no escaping hatred,
Just smile, put on a show, and pretend.

Blame it on the movies, I guess.
What was fed to us when we were young.
Good to know, things're present from both ends,
Conflict and culture circled our tongue.
We see others and we wonder,
How could their lives be perfect in total?
'Til we realize everyone's the same -- we all shatter,
No one, actually, ever feels normal.

Everybody's looking for something,
Probably a person or maybe just some feeling.
Everyone yearns, aspires, and hopes,
Holding on to their fictitious ropes.

We try to find it somewhere,
Look here, look there, look almost everywhere.
But maybe we've been actually missing,
Can't seem to find a thing.

For the longest time, it's been nothing,
And this is not changing,
'Cause we have to admit, that yes,
We're looking for it at the wrong places.

I never had those red fights caused by small stuff.
Neither did I experience those orange walks by the sea.
I never woke up to yellow sunrise next to anyone.
Not even a green stroll around one's favorite garden.
I wish I had known how to turn one's blues during late night calls.
And turn them to indigo fantasies at once.
And make one's violet eyes brighter.

I only know of a sea of grey.
A bit of white and an ocean of black.
I feel comfort in my own spot of darkness.
Fearing any inch of light will cause a mess.
There were two or three who tried to pull me out,
But I refused for I did not understand.
For now I shall stay where I am,
And feel the make-believe comfort I have made.

For the pessimist is never disappointed,
I choose not to be excited about things that could happen.
Better to have thoughts unelevated,
Than a mind lifted only to be misshapen.

At first there was the struggle,
A storm succeeded with perceived freedom.
But now the walls quashed spread a rubble,
Helpless, we feel like we're left to be dumb.

No more downs, but no ups either,
Plateaued in a flatline trapped in time.
Thinking if an examined life is indeed better,
Or if ignorance is just an unexplored yet beautiful paradigm.

We dive back to not feeling a thing,
To guard our fragile, yet strongly projected, existence.
Although uncertain how long we can cling,
To ultimately be presented with the gift of presence.

To some degree, we all feel the same.
Lost, lured, left, (likely) loved.
Dressed differently, curious characters,
In a not-so-new narrative written right before beacons blossomed as boon and/or bane.
Arriving to an understanding that no one's special, the nothingness isn't new, the emptiness is an ecstasy of the endless wormhole where we are winded.
It is all familiar -- the fun, famine, fickleness, fixated on a point of pieces of peace, serene sensations of vivid voids.
We're uncertain if we're guilty of feeling nothing.
We're just here.
Saving and saved.
Listening and listened to.
Cycles of cynicism.
Plethora of paranoia.
Ignorance ignites bliss before our eyes.
Yet wisdom wins spaces surrounding our troubled thoughts.
We dream of destinations far yet fleeting.
We wake up to nightmares needy of the nuisances that nests in our minds.
We're hungry for endings yet we yearn for beginnings.
We live in instances of ironies and presence of paradoxes.
The singularity has consumed us.
The set is empty.
The state of null has been the stability.

Someday, I will smile a genuine a smile,
A smile that will be pure, true and heartfelt.
I will wear it and travel miles and miles,
Wear off those in the past I felt.

Someday, I will be truly honest,
I will tell you how I really am.
That if back then you saw me at my ‘best,’
You’ll know I’m not really ******.

Someday, I will stop my hypocrisy,
And save myself from being a casualty.
Someday, I will be happy.
Someday, I will truly be happy

You can never be too happy, can you?
Like after finding your way from 1 to 2
Thinking, feeling, knowing,
There's a 3 at the ceiling.

It never stops, the universe.
Cosmic nonsense, in poetic verses.
To which you are a mere subject,
A thing that it can easily eject.

The hands rolled 'that' wise,
What's done will be forever precise.
Etched in fashion that marked,
That none can tear it apart.

Don't be too joyous next time, I say,
Less you wish to see a darker day.
To be quite happy must do fine,
Seek no more and it'll start a rhyme.

How likely is it for two glances to see each other?
In a crowded space, in a sea of strangers?
You knew I was somehow familiar,
That's why I tried to make the conversation more real.

Then you approached with a formal greeting,
Which I warmed up in a moment I knew was fleeting.
Were you shaky or uneasy during that time?
Or do we just go and blame it all on the wine?

As orators, I understand the art.
I listened with the mind, a little guidance from the heart.
Hoping that I am not putting much thought into this,
Convincing thyself not to read through the passing bliss.

We believe we have reached some level of efficiency,
As we are a bit more able in thinking about things,
Or so we believe? Or so we believe.
Now rhythm is less more of a containment.

Yes we saw more and did some things new,
Yet still are left optimistic, idealistic —
Pretty much left under their magic,
Yet needed to be acknowledged is how they unintendedly made you better.

Sadness and inadequacy still incites some inner soul intersection,
With the rest of joy, excitement, thrill, warmth, — that rare air,
A bit more disciplined is what we think we have arrived at,
Waiting to be fired at any moment — to take us to either thinking or nothing at all.

Less we forget to remind ourselves that we are what we’ve been looking for,
Let you be the proof of the fragility and vulnerability, of the strength and the beauty,
Every here on out has been leaps of faith to lives of uncertainty,
Still we smoke and have a laugh, get drunk and **** — live to see and try.

Faces and places, a fast past.
Picking among fickle options,
Fried in the prying cycle.

One, ja!
Two, jajaja!
Three, jajaja!

A pattern that has fatten,
A frustration in an endless production.
**** then pack.
**** then pack.
**** then pack.

Ja!
Jaja!
Jajaja!

Would you have wanted to know the colors of the sky
Just to let them fade and from your hands fly?
Is it better to know how jazz sounds like
And never hear it from any other mic?
Was the warmth of the ember worth it
Knowing you'll live in the cold and never again feel the heat?
Do you find the bizarre taste of comfort admirable?
Even if it'll only be served once on the table?
Is your scent worth remembering
Despite the undeniable fact that it's next to nothing?
Was it better to know and have hoped to forget
Or to be ignorant and completely have no memory nor idea of it?
Tell me, to which will I feel less bad:
To lose or to not have had?

Theoretically, I am drowning in love,
But how come I can’t seem to feel it?
All I see is what others have
Those who seemingly have figured it out.

Each day, a reminder of everyone’s variance,
Acknowledgement of multiple valid paths,
But how can I make it make sense,
That mine’s pretty hard to get at?

I thought I’ve freed up myself
Believed I’ve got no more chains,
Yet seeing other “freedom” I just can’t help,
Question myself, put me under strain.

I know I shouldn’t think I’m broken,
Neither something that needs to be fixed,
But that which is experienced often,
Remains the ones that stick.

How do I reconcile my non-specialty,
With the thought that everyone is deserving?
When the world shows your incapability,
How do you manage your feelings?

I am tired of pity parties,
As the narrative stays the same.
Still searching for realities,
Where life seems to not be lame.