Ito pala ang pakiramdam ng ligaw na damo,
may pangangailangang kinukuha sa hamog ng umaga,
sa lupang kakarampot, at sa katas ng ibang ugat ng ibang halaman.
Ito pala ang pakiramdam ng ligaw na damo,
nananahimik na namumuhay sa anino ng tunay na sibol
ng kalikasan. Ano ang aking silbi kung ang langit na nais kong marating ay hanggang talampakan lamang ng tao?
Ano ang aking silbi?

Ito pala ang pakiramdam ng ligaw na damo,
mabubuhay ng walang halaga,
mawawala ng walang sinasambit.

It all began with a ‘he’
he who said I was pretty
  when my face turns sideways and
  the right amount of sunlight casts shadows
  on the planes of my cheeks
he who kissed me in 6th grade
  in front of my best friend – whom he used to date,
  his lips were cool and moist
  moist – it didn’t feel anything.
he who requested love songs during our high school intramurals
  when all of my friends and all of his friends
  cheer us up like we were the sweetest thing they’ve seen.
he who danced with me the whole night of our junior prom,
  my shoes dangling behind him, my arms and his arms were sweating
  he whispers now, “You look beautiful.”
he who gave me wilting flowers on the 15th of February
  because I skipped school – too scared to face the truth
  that no one would do what he just did. He proved me wrong.
he who said “I love you” too late.
he who said “I love you” too early.
He who made me believe that fate, destiny, sparks, forever, and all that *******
  were real, written in His holy book. Should I still believe in you?
he who said would wait – the next month telling me he realized
  it wasn’t me he was waiting for.
he who told me to stay.
he who left. he who never went back.
and oh – he
he who was never here in the first place.

it all began with a “she”
she who danced in front of the class
  with all her sass, snaps, and we laugh.
she whose hair used to be straight
  swaying down her waist, flows smoothly when she walks,
  falls perfectly down her collarbones. Let’s not start with collarbones.
she whose eyelids flutter like butterfly wings
  making the ones inside my stomach dance like hummingbird’s wings
  her eyelashes are thick, outlining her brown eyes – her perfect brown eyes.
she who throws he head back when she laughs
  not knowing I drift and crash back to the sea
  like a wave thrown back by her chuckles and laughter
she who reads and reads tons of books
  when she could write about her day
  and that’ll still be the greatest stories I could read
she who held me close when she stumbles towards the bus station
  when she’s drunk
she who wanted nothing between us – worried it will not work.
but she made the raindrops of yesterday meaningful
  so it could wash off all the hurt from everything, from everyone.
she who changed me. – no.
she who made me face the mirrors I’ve been running away from
  all those lies I’ve been hiding alone
  all those pain, all those bad memories
she washed them all away, like a hurricane
   she dragged my whole town with her
she who made me forget.
she who makes me ache at times but it’s the kind of ache
  you’d gladly take – a suffering worth all the suffering
she who outshined all of – in the best possible way I could imagine
she who made the stars insignificant.

It doesn’t end with a ‘he’
It doesn’t end with a ‘she’
it all ends up with a simple ‘who’
that person who will always come through
for you

I learned that love sometimes doesn’t last that long
sometimes it doesn’t even start at all.
But I know one thing, you cannot fight it.
I don’t know where – maybe in his hands
or in her eyes. It will make you move like you
have no choice at all – like a puppet stuck
******* and down nylon strings
by the puppeteer
dictating your life
like you have no choice, at all.

She fell in love with an astronaut,
their distance lightyears away.
She believes that he fell in love with her, too.
“For the galaxies are beside me, and a vast of possibilities laying
outside the metal surrounding me,
i kept falling back into your pull of gravity.”
And she still does, when she grows old every day, waiting
he stays the same, feels the same, thinks the same.

But she fell in love with an astronaut,
their distance lightyears away.
Everything under her feet moves faster,
And in space - time slows down, Relativity kicks in.
And every day she wishes, that the Earth would stop revolving
the years stop counting, and
she would stay the same, feel the same, think the same.
She hoped, she dreamed, she failed.

She fell in love with an astronaut.
Her nights linger on tinkering on stars
and planets, and space. She wanted to wait,
she grows old, he slows it down, she couldn’t.
He is lightyears away, and time is running out.
She was in love with an astronaut,
and he was meant to be there, not with her,
not ever.

The first afternoon I can recall,
you grabbed my hand
and took me outside.
You surprised me, I said.
Because that noon
is the first time
I saw that lake.

The second afternoon I can recall,
you called me by name
and we went outside.
I brought you lunch, and
we drank some
mind-boggling liquid
which you stole from that old man
living beside that lake.
We lied on the grass, and
if that was not a dream, I hope not,
I felt your breath with mine, and your lips
on mine.

The third afternoon I can recall,
you went to my bed
and shook me awake.
I was mesmerized to see you again,
but you’ve changed.
The colour in your eyelids, your cheeks,
and your lips was artificial.
If you haven’t spoken, I
wouldn’t be able to recognize you.
Sitting at the edge of my bed,
you’ve said the name of that lake,
and I knew  it was you still.

The fourth afternoon I can recall,
you were 18 and still cried on my shoulder
not because you were hurt, but
because you were happy  getting married.
Flowers, chairs, and a priest
waited  for you beside that lake.
I was about to cry at that moment, knowing
it wasn’t me you were marrying.

The fifth afternoon I can recall,
you yelled at me,
“I can’t live this way!”
I asked you why, but
you didn’t tell me, you showed me.
That kiss beside that lake was wrong.
In all of the reasons why it was wrong,
I found one which is right.
You loved me the way I loved you.

The sixth afternoon I can recall,
you left me
alone beside that lake.
Yes, you loved me, but
as you have said you need to love yourself more.
I can’t hold you any blame for leaving,
I understood, and I lived with the promise
that you’ll come back to me –
in one piece or even in ashes.

The seventh afternoon I can recall,
you were barely alive.
You looked old, with dark circles around your eyes.
You hid them with glittery make-up.
“This lake haven’t changed.” you said.
I looked at that lake,
its beauty and all its glory
looked nothing
next to you.

The eighth afternoon I can recall
was the worst of them all.
You didn’t call, you didn’t leave,
you didn’t cry, you didn’t go to my bed.
And you weren’t barely alive.
Someone wrote me a letter, not you,
to take you where you and bring you back home.
You didn’t find yourself, you’ve lost it
To yhe hero
in your veins, who ate you in your sleep.

This afternoon,
I carry you, with all but  my shattered heart,
inside a jar.
My tears are one with that lake,
but I’ll bury you beside it.
I know you’re happy.
Your soul one with that lake.

the walls you've built -
they are all falling
i can feel the crumbs and blocks
between
each kiss you called
accidents

I don’t want to be your weekend getaway, babe.

I want to be

the reason
you can’t get up on a Monday,
the struggle to let go
of a night we shared together

the coffee break on a Tuesday afternoon
keeping you awake,
warm, and alive

the paper cut from all the pile of work
of your Wednesday night,
as the pain reminds you
of how it hurts
not to be with me

the suit you prepare for a meeting,
or an occasion you wish
to be wearing beside a red-dress wearing woman
your arm wrapped behind her waist
on a numb Thursday

and that bottle of beer you've been drinking on
a Friday evening, with a hundred people around
you search for me,
but I’m inside your grip,
and inside each of your thoughts

not just your weekend getaway.

(jacky)

He was made to choose
  between two hues
  his favorite colour was blue
  and I was cerulean

He was made to choose
  between two glasses
  he's an optimist
  and I was half-empty

He was made to choose
  between two songs
  he worshipped Cobain
  and I was deaf

He was made to choose
  between everything.
  he knows I have fallen for him -
  and here I am, alone.

He chose everything rather
  than the girl who could've promised
  her everything
  was him.

i can't stop it.
an addiction. i'm an addict.
no self discipline, no control
my hands, my fingers keep returning
and returning on
my chapped lips

it began last week. cold day,
caught a cold. breathing through my mouth.
sick and dry
dry lips.
there's an itch on my finger, i began to touch
my chapped lips

i thought it was a one time thing,
something reversible, something stoppable.
i was wrong, i was dumb, i was so wrong.
when my fingers stopped retaliating the blood,
it, the addiction, turned my teeth onto warriors
on the scrimmage on
my chapped lips

one night, i stopped
in the morning it was worse.
a wound hasn't healed, and another
on top of it. skin and flesh, on a rotating schedule
i'm scared but i don't stop. i'm scared
but my body just turned its back on
my chapped lips.

nothing has changed. blood and wound
scar and then wound,
i haven't stopped. and now i'm not scared.
i thought, i'm good at healing.
so, my chapped lips

will stay. scars may come,
but it's just my lips.
nothing good
has ever touched
my chapped lips.

You twist my hands, and my mouth
kept still. Again and again.
Turning blue and purple, they are dying.
And I thought: Is this the way
holding hands feel?
Suffocating, and miserable,
I don't think this is right.

We stayed statuesque, out of sight
of crazed eyes, and my mouth kept still.
Vibrations stuck between the walls
of my throat. Under my mind, above my chest.
And your hands are still on my hands.
And now they're turning
into the early night.

This is how we die, you say.
Even nothing has been forged
into my memory. Your hands had killed mine.
Over and over, i cling to the possibilities.
And you let go when my hands are gray
walked back into your skin.
You are nothing but a murderer.

And this is how
I cannot go back to you. You are smart
I applaud you. That's the thing
anger is an impasse. As you are.
And now, i wonder
why I didn't think this before
**You were killing the very thing that i could hold you to keep you mine.

They say that the magnificence of the planets, the stars and the galaxies
cannot be seen by the naked eye.
But when my eyes met yours, your hands touched mine -
my sight, my senses, were amplified
like the floating Hubble in space -
I begged to differ.

It's all in you,
the galaxies, millions even billions of them, are in no comparison
with you.

i am like a seed

people plant me into their little pots
constructed little plots
under control under their hands

they will always try to make me bloom
into a flower, into a little plant
under control under their hands

they would think that I am just a little bonsai
put a wire there, and i'll bloom
exactly the way they want me to

but I am tired of that
under control under their hands

i don't want to be tended, waiting
for me to bloom into what they expect me to
I am my own, and I don't need them to that, anymore

my body will grow, and they will see
i am not their plant,
i am not theirs

i don't want to be tended
if only the hands were tender
even with love

but then, they drench me
with words
that i love, and fall for

i am tired, but still
am just a seed

i am no tree, i am powerless

so place me into your ***
control me under a plot

and i'd will always
always go towards the sun

my sun

tears come down my face.
not a usual thing for a person like me,
born pained, and living numb.
all i want is to run from all that i am,
and all i ask is that will you come with me?

but my fear is that, you will say no. like
everyone else. no one ever stayed,
and
i got a feeling that I, myself,
want to leave this body of mine.

what you said is that we are the same,
dying inside, smiling outside.
no one will ever know the difference between us,
but i do, i really do.
i would give all my veins
and bleed for you,
but you wouldn't take a scratch for me.

the dream of mine to go away with you
will remian mine, and never shared with you.

he moved fast
swift as a mouse
running away from a cat
he said ‘I never
ever wanted to stay here’
and added ‘I will do
all that I can.’
I ask what
‘to escape’
he grew tired of everything else
often he would joke around
about leaving
about driving away
he already made plans
he will smoke on the way
of his escape
he will stay in a lodge when he gets tired
eat, drink, and probably sleep more
he never wanted to stay
‘where modern minds
think medieval’ adding
‘if I rot in hell, they would be happy’
so every night we talk
you never fail to say and add things to your plan
but I smile, laugh, and hug
everything about your plan
because of all his plans
of going away, driving all the way to
a city that never sleeps
of his great escape
I am in every plan
‘I’ll leave
only if you do’
and my heart melted
every broken piece of it
into one beating heart
for once, someone finally
thought about me
one night, I asked
(I don’t particularly care how or where)
‘so
when
do
we
go
love?’

Like everything in this world wounds
Around the thought of us,
Whether pain and touch, or just
Sweet serendipitous moments we shared.

All will be stored inside my little mind,
Never will it be erased, and I know troubles will come but never will
Denying you, my love, be in my vocabulary.

Like all the stars, in rainbow colours hidden
Under and over thousands of horizons meeting
Seemed nothing, beside you, dear, I will forever feel
H**eavenly around our intertwined bodies, and kisses.

I am falling in love
not into him, nor with anyone else.

But with how he can hide
your meanings
in a couple of left-aligned words.

But with his thoughts, his ideas
written on paper
in his awful hand-writing.

But with the songs he made me listen to,
they didn’t hurt my ears,
something else was hurt.

But with how he say my name,
like it’s his.
(Why does he do that? How?)

And to all his art,
especially the written ones.
His words can open doors to worlds
I didn’t know existed.

But I am not in love. I may be
falling for him.

I have got this  idea,
a stupid wish, a nonsensical desire
of being in a car accident.
Hear me, I want you to.

I prefer to be in the backseat,
seat belt on, and a frequent mannerism
of looking down, in front
on the driver's dashboard. I do that,
I always want to know the speed
and how fast the others outside this space
of metal and cushion. I don't want to be the driver,
knowing myself, I would not get myself into one.
I am a safe *****, that is all.
Then, here goes nothing -
I want the car to crash. I still haven't made my mind
on where or what are we going to crash.
Maybe a wall. Maybe another car. Maybe a post.
I want it to be something solid, but not alive.
Trees are the exceptions. I want the car
to kiss that solid thing, head on.

I don't want the pain that may come along,
I don't want to call it a near death experience,
I want that instant where -
everything seems unreal
or too real my head would not be able to
understand. I want that portion of time
where I decide do I close my eyes or not,
that moment that I will have my life question itself.
And I don't wish death I don't wish to live, either.
Just that moment, where I could think
how instantaneous life can be.
I want that tick of the clock
the clashing of realities and dimensions..

I want that moment,
I need to feel that moment of being just between death and life
where everything doesn't matter anymore, but I still know
they exist.

I have this stupid idea,
nothing so important, nothing so surreal
but to wish this
is the demand I am willing
to pursue.

Take my mind like a pocket book.
      Hold it between your hands,
      posses each of its pages, and
      you'll see, the chapters are tainted
      with your name on it.

Read my own thoughts in your own words.
      free your insecurities by the touch
      of my imagination
      of you teasing me with your teasing eyes
      look, you are the most beautiful, no,
      you are the definition of beautiful.

Feel me through each of my pages.
     I would be breathing under your handbag.
     And you'll take me to where you are headed.
     Show me what I showed you.
     Through my mind, i'll see you.

Burn me, with the heat of your grip.
     And if my mind is inside the flames you set
     I'd gladly embrace my own death
    for if i would burn inside your arms
    it would be the best way to perish.

This is the feeling of a wild grass,
with needs gathered from morning dew,
a patch of soil, and from the juice of other plants' roots.
This is the feeling of a wild grass,
will live silently in the shadows of the real sprouts
of nature. What is my worth if the only heaven I'll reach
is just up to the soles of your feet?
What is my worth?

This is the feeling of a wild grass,
i will live with no worth,
i will die without saying a word.

defined by people who
doesn't matter
to either you or me
but we still live
in shadows of their words-
pinned and pained down.

those few little words
uttered by strangers
shook my sanity -
pulling strings and
puncturing the little bubble
caving my mind.

I know they,
their words,
shouldn't matter
but can you blame me
when all the people in my life
are all strangers?

the car oozes its rusty roars
as we make our way
out of this town, fleeing.

we held each other's hands,
you keep your eyes on the road
while i keep crying like an idiot.

to be perfectly honest, i didn't know
the real reason why there are tears,
it is because i am happy with you? or scared of this decision?

all i know is that i love you,
all i know is that i am scared,
all i know is that this is wrong.

but i continue, trying to prove
myself wrong. and for the past two years
i have never been so wrong in my life.

we were not brave souls, the ones you said.
we are young, hormonal, and
purely stupid.

our plans, my life, and yours
are wounded intricately
together.

you move, i move.
you breathe, i breathe.
you touch me, i touch you.
you stay, this time
I go.

it is impossible for you to understand
that we got scared of what's beyond.

but sometimes the people worth fighting for
aren't worth loving anymore.

the end
drew me back to
the unknown
into grey matter
before anything turns
I ran away,
I took all of them
as if all memories are to throw

renewing the thoughts
deleting the past
saved on my camera roll -
your crystal clear candid shots
into sleepless metaphors
the nights you stole

with our brief barely breathing history
time seemed to align
where it flew
I was not sure how it went
the drinks, the laughs
those that came out our lungs

and the gust of sighs where i lost my mind
with our touching eyesights
we began

I condemn all these spiritualities
that claim to accept me
but I am not theirs
all these justified critics when
they will not shut their mouths
I condemn your faith
when I followed you
all I was and all I am became
close to whatever has been left on
your places
I condemn all your empty
disgusting and full of filthy tragic
words
they do not own me,
you do not own me.

I condemn all these stories
that you tell that it’s worth
all these sacrifices you talk about
are those who win
I condemn you all for telling me what
is not to do
for all my dings are the wrong things
for me to even think about
I condemn everything you have been painting my brain
you needed me not
and I do not
all I do is make your mistakes
for you to feel all high and
built

but I condemn you for condemning me
for stealing from me
from what I was
for wrecking what I thought was me
I cannot bring them back
but I swear to all your gods
that I will be more than what you told me I cannot be
all my words will be written in more than
what you have written
and you will see me
in every direction
for when you have condemned me
you did not own me
I owned you

I am one, a particulate suspended
in an infinite collection of
breathing stardust
alone standing on
earthly surfaces.

And you are the life I began
to understand in the poetry of
your words that I long to
**** in and inhale for the rest
of this illusionistic superficial reality.

Loving should be effortless
in a way that you need not to impress
to change or to bless

I feel like this when I'm with them,
I say what I say, in an instant
what comes into my mins, I say
or what has been buried deep
waiting for the right catharsis
of all
and it's effortless
I don't mind about my words
I don't filter my thoughts
They read me as the book I was printed
no less, always more
With them, no plans are needed
only the presence of each
peculiar perspective
that each of us contain

I don't feel that with you,
and even I do
I feel like it was
congregated,
never natural

now why is that?

it all began
when you decided
to make me fall in love with you
and it made sense, because I liked you
and you liked me back

for all the senseless wisdom I had
you made me who I was afraid of
careless, and ready to give back
all the **** care I forgot
about this world

it never felt right, but it never felt wrong
i did not realize it until
everything fell apart
in a blink of an eye
I am a stranger to you

Do you know how does that feel?
ignored, when I thought
I was something special?
something you like? and
something you want?

haven't you i figured it out?
that i fell into a bottomless pit
no one and nothing
to even catch
my sorry as for me

haven't you figured it out?
that i fell for you
and it's your fault
but you left me, saying you love me
but then i was nothing to you

but i'm glad it's done
buried in the past
blurred in vision
you hurt me, dear
but I forgive you

for all I care,
I know you won't rot in hell,
but at least in my memories
*you'll regret, that once in your miserable life
you took me for granted

Was I wrong?
My mind fails me
and to conjure the right words
the answers embraced nothingness
I always think
you flawed my reasoning
you were what was missing

over and over, I say
I am not mistaken or fooled
dressed in my fantasies
the idea of you and i
we will be alive
until our bones get tired
I promise.

You are a vagabond, you always were
like a migrating flock on a foreign land
again and again,
amongst all those wanders
I begin to carve on my skin.

You will find warmth in me
and you will erase all your hues
you will begin to love me

Isn't it wonderful how we say
what is real, what is not, and what is what
over the view of what we know and what we don't
Only to discover that what we believed had long gone
moved on
In situations we find ourselves stuck, you are stuck
we pretend that it's worse, that's it's different
but all the way it wasn't
it's a creation of your twisted mind
sculpted by the hands of a twisted man
We try our best to see what's beyond
what's far, what's in the future
predict the utopia, forgot
that life isn't all what you want
and that's when we start
to feel what we want,
see only what you want to see
and for all the mercy in the world
you exist only in the parameters of your own mind
unreachable
your reality is far from what is real
what are you, who are *you

the truth comes with a bit of a sting
it's you accept it and let it all go
or you swallow it, with all the jagged edges
of each side down your throat
it's just a sting, it's a bite from an ant
or a stab in the back,
a kick in the guts,
a touch from reality.

and i predicted that this would happen,
that I'd do this to myself.

and I predicted that you would run,
now you've touched my truth,
I knew you weren't ready,
and I am just glad
that whatever happened,
or 'could have happened'
is done, before it has begun.

and I predicted that this would happen,
and I predicted that you would run
once you knew the truth,
now,
you're backing down.



*****

Love me because I am glass,
thick but fragile. Too strong
of your grip, I'm shattered. Too loose
I'll slip between your tiny bones.

Love me because I am glass,
thick but fragile. A diamond
laying by your side, I shine
and you reflect.

So love me because I am glass.
Always cautious not to break me,
or even scratch a little crack on me.
Even a little.

And I will love you because I am glass,
steady and fragile. I will keep certain
if I break, you won't be hurt.
And I will never cause you pain.

Not now, not ever.
Even if I am glass, I will
love you as you, as you love me
because I am glass, thick and fragile.

I long for the time,
when you are not “you”,
or “she” or “he”, or any
of the words I write. Not a hint,
not sign of you being “you”,
in each line “you” appears, it will not be you.
And I have found a new definition
of “she” or “he”, not even
the shadows of my words
would tell you that it’s “you”.

And in that day that it’ll come,
I’ll look back at this piece
of prayer, that my “you”,
will not be *you

This game we are
playing tires me out.
You decided to call it 'hide and seek';
we are the players - you and I, and all of them.
But I question this little game of ours,
everybody's hiding.
Nobody
is seeking.

Through the dark,
I let my eyes adjust.
I did my best
to stay out of sight.
Behind the curtains, below
the cabinets, and until now
hidden in these words.

We remain unseen.
We remain hidden.
No one wanted to be
found.

As I light this third one,
your face came up to my mind.

I suddenly wished that your love is like smoking.
When I desired to let in the smoke,
the addictive nicotine of your love
inside my pitiful tired airbags,
I could easily tell myself
to exhale the white
lung filtered ghost
out of my system,
out of my life.

But your love doesn't work that way.
Love is inking your name on my skin
deep through my bones (if it can).
Living in me, thousands of needle bites
In each second piercing through who i am
for the rest of my breathing years.
And through the pain, your name is complete.
Yet when you leave,

your name, your love,
will remain
in blank ink
on my young
cigarette-fumed
skin.

breathing, still breathing,
in and out,in and out, in and -------
out
cliffhanging loud beats
one, two, one,
       two, one
   and two
pulsating pace, closing time
cold fingers, toes, neck
dried pale kisser
buried irises, fluttering lids
in and
           out, in and -------
out
one, two, one, one and two
knocked out, shut down
paralyzed, stunned, running out
blood, there's blood
somewhere, everywhere, all around
open skin, trembling wrist
blood, there's blood
in and
             out, in and out, in and ------
out
one, two, one,
                 two, one and two
lights out, lights back on,
phone ringing, door slamming
sirens coming
mother, screaming
diluted sounds, distant thoughts
in and out,
                      in and out, in and ------


still alive, still alive
             still                alive          
still -
i smile

I don't feel safe
inside anybody's arms
even mine, even my own
because I know that they'll let me
go when I'm hanging by their grip
and I know
I cannot trust myself
that I won't do the
*same