i think people are more interested in themselves

than the swarm of bugs on the streetlights
crickets on the road
or the explosion of sprinkle stars up the dark sky

but i guess that's common sense

Hello Manila rooftop
Manila quiet and Manila cold.
I am at the quiet part of the city
While cats roam by
and I hear nothing.
Cars rare
Jeepneys none.
Even if I’m looking from above.
The vertigo tempts me.

I have trouble with existing,
as if I lack some proper requisite for insisting to persist.
I feel like just a composite of so many billion molecules.

I have a hard time defining truth.
So many contradictory influences tell me what to do.
I feel I'm better off sleeping straight through every single birthday.

I have never felt just simply okay.
Doubt hits me like a tidal wave.
It takes me away to far-off places,
and I can't say I mind it.

i
have felt more honest touches
from straight boys
honestly telling me
i am honestly worth nothing
they treat me like a ***** magazine
they get so much pleasure
from tearing open my spine
i am a centre-fold
of ****** lips & bruised eyes
there's only so much
my staples can take
how can i feel safe,
when bricks don't build homes
but instead fly towards me
with labels like "******"
from the mouths of boys
who don't have the *****
to put on a ball gown
and throw their stilettos
at homophobic policemen
on hot summer nights
you wanna talk about fights?
i know what it's like
to french kiss
your "oh-so-british" fist
so don't talk to me
about equality
until i don't have to walk the streets at night
with my keys between my fingers
expecting the worst,
always.

Why do they call it being 'absentminded'
When you're present, more than ever, in your head?
Maybe live somewhere else instead.
My share of conversation's dead.
In one ear and out the other.
Swim in space and float in water.

my greatest fear
is mother and father
reading my journals

see through lines
deliberately unreadable

because i write the unthinkable
     'i might not marry someday'

and the perverse
     'i wonder what's it like to **** this girl'

and the abominable
     Amber is a woman trapped in the wrong body
          and
                        she
                  ­               is
                                     suffocating.

i choke on the silence
because it is woman's role
in Saturday sermons

because i cannot borrow my brother's slippers
     i am not needed outdoors

because when i spoke for the trans waiter with the pained smile
     they blamed my sociology
     and not my compassion

mother and father, bless your souls
i'd rather not have you read this

and believe in the 'i love you's

                               because love is the greatest commandment
                                               *but we spit on the ****