close your eyes.
breathe in eternity.
let the weight of time dissolve.

what is your soul’s curriculum?
what lessons are carved in your bones,
whispered in your dreams,
woven into the moments that brought you here? Saturday.

what an andy wants.
what an andy needs.

Saturn’s touch…
did you call these trials into being?
shape these crossroads before you arrived?
do you feel the pull of destiny,
or the echo of something you’ve already known?

what an andy wants.
what an andy needs.

are you listening?
to the hum beneath silence,
the flicker between waking and sleep,
the voice that speaks when all else is still?

what an andy wants.
what an andy needs.

the answers are not ahead of you.
they are within you.
all you have to do—
is remember.
Return.

change is the only constant
but being is open-hearted
& loving more.

i don’t want to be so
drunk
that i wake up in gun hill road.
home on new year’s day. 7 am.

for me, you can always reclaim a
sense of sanity
even in a time of chaos.

there are many things that
one
cannot reclaim.

why should i try?
if those things are gone…

did i need them in the
1st place?

self-worth comes back.
things get stolen.
for something
new.

really finding their peace.
in a zoom meeting.

tingaling with a feeling
from a screen.

if i stopped caring
people could bear
with me.

i see him spit
in
a hand-washing station.

my entry denied
over
a
face shield.

face shield. face shield.
a repeated mantra; standing there
still.

inspired by tony labrusca's portrayal of josé rizal

babae likes me contained.
me—a tupperware full of lumpia.
i'm soggy, *****.
*****—inday—i'm gwapo. fried uy.

sorry. soggy.
druggy. sorry.

my chest tattoos?
yes, they can be removed.
will that be provided in my—

nevermind. thank you.
she opened her purse.
hard candy.

waving me away.
sorry carb-eating lad.
she is just ******* hard candy.
cgeh. babay. cgeh bi.

jose, they say you wrote novels.
but i wonder—
did you ever write yourself out?

did you watch your own ink
bleed into the soil?
did you wish for something softer?

in the way i am devoured. hero forgotten.
in the way i am swallowed
whole—one piso coin
by lovers, by history, by a name
they gave me before i ever
spoke too. ii

non-reacting
presenting an acting exercise

— it’s windy outside.

non-reactors finding.
searching.
stillness in the storm.

i have been promoting my new video on youtube.

taking a break.
needed a break.
taking a break.

writing songs seems so hard.

will youtube how to write a song.
i will do that later, babe.
you're bae.

i didn’t eat any food.
wait—i had a piece of ginger.

i would want to be famous
if i became a musician.
very well known.
songs in karaoke books globally.

i wouldn’t sell my soul or anything like that.
i need a vocal coach, daddy.

dear santa,
christmas was great for 2019.

make 2020 even better.
god is in control.
don’t forget that.

the great thing about Bic-Round Stic M is that the ink doesn't bleed through the paper.

singing all day - will the willing to write songs and produce a great debut album.

where do i stand? anywhere—

where are you?

babe…

why must you ask such trivial questions?

then again, i grapple with an external validation problem,

curbed by a body—my own diary.

andy denson's diaries, tales—sweet.

thoughts flutter like moths to a flame,

yearning for the light of recognition,

yet finding solace in the shadows.

the pages absorb my musings,

ink drying without a trace.