From the cocoon, I have vanished
Or taken the form
of Likes, Shares and Hastags

Because, you said you were there
And I didn't hear your voice
All I had was your syntax
Nothing to hold to remember you were near.
Perhaps, only a Bible verse
That you copied and pasted.
That was now Nano data

So, your concern
Was over a wall of words
Bound by HTML coding
Latched with permalinks

Your words, they meant  “well”;
But they need to come
With gifts and dropping the phone.
Before I can think of leaving
Before I begin to fly
Before I leave with balloons
Tied around my neck.
And reflecting rainbow colors
In a sky spectrum.

Eventually, I tried to reach the sky
But I gave up
Because I was seeing the clouds
Etched into the skyscrapers.
With fluorescent growing translucent

The building—I wanted to see its windows in motion.
So, I spread my wings
And saw the lights beam up within a rapid rush
Then, I colored the sidewalk in rainbows.
With my mass
and waste of space.

He gave every breath daily
To a world—A world of brisk heartbeats
A human thud per terasecond
And within the quantum of technology grace
Hard facts and simple sentences
Typed down each word
To complete the quota

He left his soul behind
No love was aloud
No love was allowed
So, to set the pace—
He kept his world to his own
Versus those whose worlds were with each other

The loneliness turned to rain
Silver scatterings and empty wholes
Water would hold no life
Willows hate. Don't thrive
Connecting the dots without the push of a pen
He loomed in routine but his heartbeat was still there
Mastering the mundane
Walking the earth, not at all running

Words were written on his face
Founding the start of standard
And implying a taste
He could like every photo
Yet hate that person elsewhere
So, he cried
And no tears fell
So, he worked
To pay money for love
Like a fool
Like a tired fool

I know Im not suppose to
Share my problems
Yell or cry
Not for now
Or ever
Never let people know
But I confess
Confide with the fact
That my personal veins
And my blood flow
Have these wounds that were meant to be
The scars of someone else

I try to fix myself
With the smiles I see
They walk, stand upright
"Be of good cheer"
Pretend to be healed
I am worse
Because I "can" fix them
Because I am fine...
Because I am what I should be

My body is due
Long overdue
It buffers the colds with
Half hearted beats
Double chocolate chip
And peppermints
But I turned to
Euchalyptus
Because of the snow breaths
To temper the hellfire
I keep inside me

I can say Im okay
Until you are
But I will find myself
...you will find me
Hung against the sky
Or on a Christmas tree branch
Like an ornament
The angel
Above joseph and mary
Who is happy
Who is suspended in air
Tied to a fiber string
Tied to forever

...
….You make me want to return into the shell I already broke out of.
I hope you
Your
You’re happy
Because it is now a cave. From which I will spend eternity.
Congrats. Congrats on showing me the world for exactly what it is.
A place. A dwelling.
A dwelling for those who talk against the slow, the weak.
THE RECOVERING. THOSE WHO WISH TO GROW.
Those who have nothing but good intentions. Intentions not for themselves but. For Others.
Congrats.
My soul is as rachet. As hated. As Hatred.
BECAUSE OF all things that came: Your gossip. Your rumors. Your hidden enigma….*ehem agenda
…
Got to me. Broke me in front of reality.
Naked and bounded by nothing but deceit. Discord.
I call on Shiva...but now..
...Jesus.
Please. Show me the broken way. The broken way back to glory.
If nails strike me down. I’m willing.
I’m willing go further. Not to death. But to suffer. But not suffice or succumb.
Because I'm giving in again. I’m giving in...again.
“And I’m just holding on for tonight, On for tonight, On for tonight”
“Help me, I’m holding on for dear....”
LIFE

And I decided
LONG AGO
That I wont.
***** THEM

!!!
…. “I’m gonna swing, from the chandelier, the chandelier”
“I wanna fly”
“Like a bird in the night”
Watch my tears as they fall
Make rain a ghost of
A proof
Of the broken
Broken glass, broken mirrors
Broken bones out of
Words
syntax.....
...

I let the under cooked carrot cubes play with ginger hues and pork broth in my mouth. Their dull edges slightly carved my tongue but the soup did pass like ocean waves to the seashore. It left me essentially wanting more. Down my esophagus it goes as I cramp down the vitamin C, B12(?) and a sorry excuse to a quick fix dinner. It was good all the same. It was those spring onion stems that bonded together next to the pork. Crunches of fresh grass and a morning Sun.
My laptop holds the key to what could possibly be my ticket to the bed in no where near the intention...the drive to dream. My mind is too tired to think of good planets...of worlds that are created for my craving to rest on clouds or probably fat people that can run for miles against the fit. But my head is still on the screen...Typing and wishing words were closer to my "academic thoughts".

You say you have known me all your life.
But life wasn’t long enough:
To keep grandpa alive by the fish pond
To amend in world peace
To make sure friends never said goodbye
To stay awake and never wonder
To know one another

Know? Know one another?
Knowing me. Knowing You. Knowing One.
Knowing
Know
No, No One
No-ing
No-ing the fact that you say you’d stay forever
(only kept my mouth
Shut. ) We were never even talking within
Facets of understanding or under the grace of chocolate cake and candied apples.

Know
No that you were here and I was there in the same room though.
Though?
No
You let me speak in a matter of control
The words you got reciprocate to hollow
Hollow
Halo. Hollow. Mixed?

Mixed within the coils of a *** life and carbon monoxide
These are the men on the sidewalk saying “The politicans are pigs”
Every day, in Morayta, know
No that know sun will rise because
The politicans let clouds hover
Not a soul. Neither their bones.
No bones…..Know: Bones.
Not the bones. The soul!

Taxing the soul is nothing compared to
Hi’s and hellows are 3 pesos a piece.
Sir, you are going away
The plain of a heart that knows is
No. Nowhere to be found
For to know
Is never to truly
No

I measure the distance–
Us
Speed over time
A number close to my mouth
At the very least, to my presence
As a dim light phased across the rain-painted window,
I observe
As every spectrum hit
The teardrop on the tissue
Even each second for white noise
tabulated carefully
for this experiment
To rationalize my theory
Miles per second

A single heartbeat,
Cold and Collective
Estimated each decibel,
A sonar to the depths of my body
Hollowed by this

Enough.
My mind now numb in the witching hour
Curling my body towards sleep;
A heart left awake;

Now, holding what I knew was close
A frame to contain
These painted smiles
of now fastened teeth
Hanging dead
A breath
Shrill,
Still,
Time is Space.

Here I am, again
Checking my watch and looking at
The ocean, across my windowsill
Our Home –
Is still a house

The way the wind blows towards my direction
It passes my body
I can feel
You, In each breeze
Cold to my fingers
But warm in my heart
A kiss in the sunset
Is my walk towards you
The shore is waving towards your island
In my own strength
And I still catch
Your flying kisses
Unfolding like butterflies
Spring of June Morning shine
Year after year
But I don't cry
Because we've been separated by distance
Even for a matter of years.
Why?
Because for as long as we share the same sky
And breathe the same air
We're still together.
In the arms of the wind

Amongst the crowd, I blaze it across and up
Down the middle, a mechanically knit hug
With its broken handle
And popping arm crossstiches
To fasten the shame
To hide the tears inside me
That have not evaporated

In my jacket, I am me
3XL and slowly dying
Of a death that no one knows
Or a change that could end the world's colds
No one knows because no one knows care

Eitherway, the fantasy *****
So for reality, I conform
And learn to hide
My curves that have been
Rolled against the mud I never wanted
Shot into the toilet that the water dwelled in stench
Bruised in the way of another but never for a child. Brutal for a teenager

Because love was tailor made
For someone else
Time was made to order
For the busy and no time for me
Because friends beat you up
For being a giant that doesnt fight back

Locked secrets
A past and a pension
Within my body
That I am willing
I am so wishing
To be a shadow
In my black jacket
A face not from the many
But being trampled on the floor
Yet phasing through
Like the timeless, like a ghost
Seldom gone but never present

To be different is to be alone.
We live in the folds of
Closed doors against open windows

We then can hear the treble of
A voice against each other
United in loneliness
Divided in an instant click, a shut off with headphones

But I dont hesitate. I stand
Even sometimes sit up
Think and smile for every word
I start to
Say
Speak
Whispering with a force
Like a needle ***** to the forehead which is the focus on us all
My mind cries then the tears flow
Into the heart
I then help tear down walls
They have built
Against the colors, noise and difference
Of the world. With an effort of words.

I open my eyes
They have left again
Perharps, to be alone is to be different.

A muse meant
Loving You
From a distance
Like candied sugar
To a toddler's honeysuckle

And possessing eyes that only play
Within the fulcrum
Of your figure
Galaxies beyond my heart
Could only seek
You, My Everything at the moment

Naively, I pour out my words
Clearly, I’ve never been in love before

This Christmas is cold.
Even as the moon is scalding
To the heat of the stars
In the humid air
Of the hidden sun.
My heart reaches out to closest flames
But they are in full-fledged fuel
For their own
Feisty foolish fellowships
Furiously festive in the ignorant bliss
Such is the permafrost
Of no welcoming arms

And so, I host Revenge
Who welcomed Bitterness
In my thoughts
While suffering from the sinister snowstorm
I alone perhaps have made this night cold
Cold enough
To trick me to sleep
In tears, only my dreams are warm enough
To thaw but a single thumb

Frozen and Alone
I fade. Evaporating into the clouds
I am part of what will be
Rain, wadding the earth
In a pool
I will remind them of loneliness
I
Will be the cold

Next Christmas is cold

Love like a heart. Yes, the *****. It has equal distribution of blood, we can also call it “love”, around the body. It filters the love then reuses it; making sure it’s fresh and ready for another round and round. It doesn't discriminate in that sense. It is kept safe within a cage yet free to move around the body. The chambers keep the "love" and preserve it. Its chambers are with purpose. Love in its purest form has a purpose and preserves quality in a way.

Its tunnels are plenty in little things and large places. From carpals to kidneys. It has set its boundaries but is open to love others by moving around freely in a body ready to explore the world and appreciate things. If it needs help, it will be honest. It will be willing for a transplant. It doesn't go beyond what it can’t do. It is within the confines of skin, muscle and fats. If it breaks, it can be fixed and can recover. There is a chance at least. It beats to a rhythm that ideally sets the pace or speed of time in its lifespan. Action-driven, it never boasts. It stays humble by simply staying where love needs are greatest.

Don’t be a heart like the shape. Never like the shape. It’s two dimensional. It only breaks into two when it’s all over. It’s so cheap, it can be sold in cookie form. Paper hearts make perfect practice for your shredder. They are fragile. Drown it in water and it will never survive. It will be flashy and attractive at first but love is at its luxury and glitter doesn't make it truly shine.

Yes, memories of a circle
That we kept in
Grand laughter, game board days
And probably small talks
With a depth
A refinement
Assuring my bruises
That high school
Was over

But Time
Time is a funny thing though
A factor
It pushes the gaps
Makes space
For rumors, For drifting apart
For false promises
For straight line barriers
Cutting across an open space
Across a familiar
Probably play room

Imagination made room
No, deception did
For a friend
That was his best
Now, means nothing
But an empty couch
In front of a TV
Near action figures
And snakes and ladders

In his basement
His hideaway;
Something has died in there
Ghosts of the toy soldiers
Who loved to die
For our alliance
Against the **** carpet
World

Circles, now an oval
Then two circles
Separated
Attempted osmosis

I was definetely a part
Now
I play, We have played
Apart

Listening is relative.
Reading together is shallow.
Love is biased.
Reaching out is a myth.
Worship is noise.
Giving is a habit.
Church is a party.
Church is a half-way house.
Clapping is stepping on the cross.
Sitting is sin of omission.
Fellowship is exclusive.
The Cross is a decoration.

But God is still God.
Jesus
From Heaven or From Men?

The dead, great and small, will all stand before the throne
And before the book of life.
It is here that they will be judged by the Maker, the all-seeing One,

And every knee will bow down,
And each of us will account for our lives.
God cannot be fooled; no silver tongue can escape the truth.

To those who sought glory, honor and eternal life,
He will give eternal life.
As for the wicked and selfish, who were blind to the truth,
He will strike them dead and destroy them.

He is the one who searches mind and heart,
And he will give to each of us according to what we’d done,
For God shows no partiality;
He is the same, now and forever
The beginning of all things, and the final word in history.

The self I saw in you
Was at the start an album
Of smiles next to
Expecting eyes
I was in constant
Flow
To try and reach
My open arms towards
You, A Fun Time
Shining in your white dress
Me in my hip pants
We cross the street
Like we know
Each others steps
The world among us
Is not the best
We both fear, cringe
But friend, you chose to love
Me, in my midnights
In my last songs
You gave me you
In every dance
Like the moments never ending
Time never said goodbye yet
Because my hand folds into yours
My Sister in a friend

Marceline

This magic keeps me alive
Its just you
and me--
The wreakage of the world


I'm afraid
You're going to lose me,
Yet I need to save you
but who's going to save
Me?

And I know you're going
To need me
here
with you
but I'm losing myself
I can feel myself
Slipping away
And its making me crazy

I remember that—
what it made me say
but I'm losing myself
I saw you frown
I swear,
it wasn't me.
It was the crown.

Please forgive me
For whatever I do
when I don't remember
You

This must be
So confusing
For a little girl

This magic keeps me alive

you pitiful old man.
You're so annoying,
you find me,
and start
hanging around
but you're really
really
really nuts
Just another lame excuse
to see me.

Man, It's getting me down.
I'd like to help you,
but I don't know if I can.
Every time I move, eventually,
I thought you were nuts,
You know, I'm actually glad..
. to see you.
Maybe
I'm the one
who's
Nuts.

He was fat in the corner.
The walls stood straight to crest the ceiling in place.
The boy’s arches were eroded enough to roll him out his created abode.
But it stuck between the sharpness of its lines pin cushioned on his body.
It blocked its concrete sound.
It nailed his waist into the water of floor as if it was holding buoyancy.
The floor which was like an ocean hung his body to only sit and stay.  
This is where he would sit.
This is where he viewed his world.
With his Cable T.V., he viewed the world.
He became them in a sense of what they know.
Sometimes he was the sailor man saving the gal in the red turtleneck.
Sometimes he just wanted more than ****** snacks.
It was the static that came into it and the tremor of the popguns and bicycle punches.
His costume was the hand that drove into his pocket for yellow spheres of his personal favorite.

His fingers would unwrap the same world over and over again.
No matter how many copies.
They were in wrappers.
They were in silver lings of the stuff in what was known to stick and to sit on my palm like reflected sunsets.
These were in forgotten little notes to the odes of what was the turn of his tongue. He loved being sweet.
He loved to chew it ever so darling.
He crunched.
His mouth builds a castle.
To the eyes arrived in clouded visions coming from within.
As the teeth gnash off to the nectars and nips of sugar, butter, milk in *****, the crystals vanish.
They dazzled the eyes with images from the inside.
It was the way it took into him.
His cheeks became lambent as they were sagging off his face.  
In the motion was a peripheral point of the lips.
It would drag him into crave.
No more of waiting for it to melt.

The time was hung out to see the beat of his little heart.
He could have no more candy.
20 years later, he should have nothing more.
It was enough to make the scale rotate against zero.
But no one measured his content.
No one measured the happy in his heart.  
No one knew that what he wanted was just to taste the good.
He just wanted the tip of the tongue
To take him beyond a state of sitting and standing without really moving.
He wanted to walk on ice but float above its glass.
But he was going to die.
He would. He would eventually. They would say. Mother said.
Mother said this in her prim voice with all the promises of chocolate coated crisps in the world. He will choose to smile.
But here he is. He is still alive.
He is still rolling into the rears of his rounds.
He still loves what he is.
He still loves what he ate.
The choice of change is in his grip and so are his pockets.
They are still full of his old favorites.
He will take them when God takes him into his pockets.
He will be sweet.
He will be his own butterball.
He will be wrapped in what is 25 years.

100 pounds. And Mommy wants to raise me
She takes my plate
It floats from her hand
And falls down
Three drumsticks
Splat
It was all on the floor

Her voice
And I kept looking past her head
Because my eyes couldn’t face
Rage

So, no longer could I cook
To her, I needed discipline
One rod to set me off
To the sky and push my head against the ground
The fact was I am
Fat

Every supper, she took the bread.
The flour is mute in the edges. Its texture is soft on the tongue
There were always blue dolphins in my glass.
They wish to swim within an ocean
And I set them free
Because I didn’t want my stomach to be
Empty

A maze meant
Loving You
Across

Space and Time
Direction spites
Crossroads

Hello. I am here

In the motion of flying leaves
I can feel the wind revolve around the urn
Embracing it,
Embracing you
I will miss you,

But like old clothes, I will learn
To outgrow the memory of you
As time alters my head and body
My favorite jeans I insist on wearing,
But they just won’t fit anymore.

We now ride the boat of forgetting
Before alighting, allow me for the last time
To hide in your embrace
And the tattoo smile lines on your face
To which I lift a finger to trace.
We look to each other’s glass eyes,
Put on our coats, nod, then walk away.

But listen:
There always comes a time,
When the imagination fills in the absence
And the memory is relieved again
And again
For death does not end love
And separation does not further the distances

I miss some memories of people, 8pms next to a ceiling of November stars and random yo momma jokes.
I miss pepperoni pizzas and orange sodas of a meeting the night before an Algebra exam.
I miss some people who move to the United States, back to Mindanao, away to Makati.
I miss not knowing of a graduation until we sing that batch song one last time.
I miss her under a Langka tree with a chuckle next to the height of my left shoulder. She was measuring my happiness in the little talks and ringing laughter.
I miss wiping her tears as I helped roll her bag across the rocky road to a bus.
I miss being under the wings of God when I first met him through lion puppets and singing prophets.
I miss biting through those chocolate chip cookies after successfully reciting John 3:16.
I miss eating until the tummy says “keep going” and the candy bar bag was always open.
I miss crying when my yaya leaves me everytime I go to kindergarten. This was every single time I get down the school bus.
I miss smiling for a family portrait next to the Christmas tree.
I miss riding across a river with my little brother in paper hats and a floormat boat
I miss walking across a field of santol buds. Ruby to my eyes and to others who pick them.
I miss my panda bear. I could always sew the eyes back on.
I miss being young
But I can’t miss growing up and moving on.

There are memories I wish I could go back to
In time.
But I can only stare at pictures like this
Weep a bit
And wish for another.
But we chose to rethink it.
Reclaim love in the form of others.
Hugs and take-out food
Who dare to try and love
Against a world that would not take them
Some are absent now, but have lived the legacy of love.
His Fellowship never ends

You tickled me
From afar
With just
My very vision
Of you
A dream cloud
Of our hearts--experienced
Time reset
To days
Next to a Langka tree

We meet once
But I see a thousand times
More
Of sharing every second
In words about the World
We share
Shared
In memories
Monuments in my head
Next to the gate
Of my heart
Playful and brief

Your smile
takes me there
with your ***** eyes
Petite little chin
Dimples, I say
You gave petty love
Looks
and curly charms
A name
Yours

They had thin arms and basketballs
Jokes and jackstones
I only had my lunch box

They were eating together
I was alone

Across me
A riff of tables and chairs
There were my classmates
Exchanging butterscotch
Their laughter rang

In the white sound, I could not even speak because
Love never needed to talk
It just needed to create sense in my mouth
My mouth was full. Stuffed with the tanginess of gravy
This is why lonely is my bliss
Grow
Fat but I belong

A life in Christ is new and pure.
It is new as a white sheet, as fresh snow
Pure as the light, the lamb’s wool, the sun’s glow.

But the old life lingers; we battle ourselves.
And sin reminds us of our inherent darkness:
Every stolen pen and cheated test,
The sleepless nights of a lustful mind
Or the greed of our own open indulging mouth
Words like ice, hate, ******, lies.

But a life in Christ is new and pure.
His grace is sufficient, and his power is perfect.
He molds us, and prunes, burns and removes,

Changes anew.

This Christmas is cold.
Even as the moon is scalding
To the heat of the stars
In the humid air
Of the hidden sun.
My heart reaches out to closest flames
But they are in full-fledged fuel
For their own
Feisty foolish fellowships
Furiously festive in the ignorant bliss
Such is the permafrost
Of no welcoming arms

And so, I host Revenge
Who welcomed Bitterness
In my thoughts
While suffering from the sinister snowstorm
I alone perhaps have made this night cold
Cold enough
To trick me to sleep
In tears, only my dreams are warm enough
To thaw but a single thumb

Frozen and Alone
I fade. Evaporating into the clouds
I am part of what will be
Rain, wadding the earth
In a pool
I will remind them of loneliness
I
Will be the cold

Next Christmas is cold

Because no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I rub my eyes and try to look at it again, I still see that the small things I do has nothing compared to the size of what others can create and have mastered. Comparing just can't be helped.
You know what? You have managed to prove to me that it's better being alone than to try being around people. I don’t need to hear lies while reading my science fiction novel. I don't need to see fake smiles when I watch cartoons. People these days must be incapable of being aware of someone's important presence.  A certain someone who wants to be heard because the blood in them boils and cleanses dirt to the top of my brain and clogs my heart. The way I work every waking moment with my hands craving the board to wood shavings  to be noticed. The way I open both my time, time he can never spend again for myself under that Narra tree I love, and money; Money that he earned by setting aside a coin per day.  
Accepted? I think you just want to finish a good deed out of nothing. Please don't lie to me. Please. I know how sad I am and I won't recover because there are a lot of people like you. The world thrives in this form of self-pity. There are a lot who get away with it. Believe me. I see it now and every day. Every single charity time.  At one point, you will always go together and I will always be alone. You will never get to that end with me because you stop it with your circles. You stop it together. You left it at that.
And now....I only wish to die...To die slowly and to know that I don’t need to do anything about it. The way I was given cake. It had corners for others. You could turn it to see other names. You are exclusive. It wasn't special. It was trick. I was abandoned.
You call me selfish? And even after all the times were I was singled out by your dates and the way you would mouth yourselves in time wrapped in spending talks and little footprints to cover your tracks. Yet you still dare to call me selfish. I? I am dying. I am dying because of the air you breathe. The air that you use to laugh in and breathe into a joke or loud noises of whatever shoe or color your hair could be. I needed it to survive. I needed it to stay alive. I want to help those , in fact, those who are like me dying slowly from the air that was once there’s and now revolves around the popular. And you have the gull, the audacity? The stubborn seedlingness..to call me selfish?!
Yes. I want to explode. I want the noise to be heard but then when you come to look for its origin, you will find no trace. I want the outward noise to block the concrete sound of your rash and irrational blurt outs because you care about the others that are your other halves. Me? You will never find me. I. Am. Done. Gone.
And Well played.

All I drank was the blood
Feeling like the lush taste of brandy
And the dry rasp of whiskey
I wanted what ran your heart
To run
Mine

Then, I curl against the corner
With a knife in my left hand
Rusting from crimson red
Washing it with my tears
At the same time, bashing my head
On where we could have lived
On what was starting to be
Ours

Why didn't you love me?

Oh! Blood Orange
hiding your secret
Of the art of camouflage
The way you trick
An artist’s fruit basket
In still life
A bartender’s triple sec
During a late Saturday night
A gardener’s harvest
As early as December

How dare you! Freak of nature!
My nature! You have oppressed!
Keeping your identity inside
Not giving me the slightest clue
To your crimson-inside views
You dare to be fair
and a sour yet sweet date?

Even as I rub my hand against your curves
A peel beyond any apple to any eye
Even as I suckle on your pulp like a leech
Wanting the blood, beyond your orange
You only give me what is
The color
Of a scarlet letter

Good thing knives can end this story
Like the sword to a philosopher’s skull
To drink out of it
And become what I wish
Because today
love is will never grow
In an orange
full of blood