because others could not have it
Guilt taught me I could not watch videos of people ******* because ******* was a sin
And that my body was sacred so only a man I loved
and was married to could touch it

For as long as I remember
He was there, smiling

When I was seven,
My mother told me I was born a sinner
And guilt was just the desire to be forgiven from this natural condition
So every time my body pressed against a pillow
Rhythmically
In my grandmother’s room
With no one
but the sight of Guilt judging me with His piercing eyes —
I did not question it

I was a sinner
Simply for loving my own body

Pasayloa ko… pasayloa mi sa among mga sala, my mother chanted in every prayer —

I repeated it, obeyed it, until I came to believe it

So when I stopped believing
When I knew I stopped believing
He was there, patiently
Bidding me to come back

Even as I rode through bliss
Rhythmically
Hair pulled back, the bed damp
Used condoms at the side
Breathlessly eating and being eaten out by
this man I just met

His piercing eyes, unflinching stare
****** me harder than anyone ever did

Guilt was my religion —
And I was His prodigal child

Small hairs sprinkle his hand
His touch is wet and uncomfortable
He smells of musk and ash
He's nervous

I try to contain myself from leaving
My minds fall back to you
It's like I'm sick
I gag on his smell

It's not one I know
Not one I want to taste

I hate you
Yet I come back
To your memory
Your sound

Is reminisced in my ears
You thwack and bang
Against my heart
Begging to be let out

I throw up on my words
They're like metal
Swishing and swallowing
My desire to let go

I end my meeting.
Leaving to my unwashed sheets
They outline the disgusting yearning
Of my body

A flash of light illuminates my face
Your picture
Your long hair.. and hairless arms..
I turn it off.

I have a date tomorrow.

….
….
The door drew fate.
A face amidst the darkness?
My anxiety inflates.
…
…
A passing day draws in darkness,
each day an eye sees me.
My senses urge, trying to decree;
For It finally began,
It now watches, it can now see.

…
…
I have fled my place,
But will it ever follow?
I closed the lights,
lifted them in darkness,
My feelings ever hollow.
…
…
I may be crazy,
But this is forever true.

It was never like this,
It was my fault.
I had defeated my own nightmare no less,
But my actions caused it to bless.
A cage in a basement I made,
It turned that to its charade.

Now I shall find something to confront,
It shall never leave my front.
An existence that shouldn’t exist.
I shall annihilate that, fist with fist.

An old shadow, with yellow flaming eyes.
I looked in past at time, I try,
Four preceding angelic numbers of time,
Guided times hand to defeat;
It was something, my greatest feat.
The nightmare that I caged.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥
𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵.

For I shall now figure this cursed time,
Else I will meet an inevitable demise.

I have killed.
Mutilated beings.
Destroyed homes.
And un-kindly,
Committed genocide.

A lone song bird, fell by my youth.
Tears that day for the first recognition.
Guilt.

The progress that commands attention,
drives my bemoaning hand to ****.
Blades cutting for looks amongst the wild,
dicing any who lay beneath them.

In my hast to live in progress,
I am led to disrupt the belittled
Creatures of the land.

Colonies fell by the fire of my confusion.
In youth I withered to conform to the norm.
The creatures killed by a giants hate.

Alas I find the world is riddled to death;
The secret need to ****, the secret darkness in all.
A shadow to the life we dream,
but a shadow unseen.

He holds a blade in his hands
( A sharp and thinner )
Will he cut his own finger
Or will he cut another

He is been told -Past & Now
He is been scolded - Past & Now
( First for use, Now for the Plough)

"Oh , he went to hurt another?"

(The blood is crusted on his nails
And blade !)
Now will he wash off the blade
to tell If
He cut his own finger
Or did he cut another

He swings the blade
And dried off
And then,

He said " she was the target"

And
She had a blade
She said calmly
" My blade is blunt & so I
evade"

(The boy remembered what they told
They said everyone lie and they pretend
But he thought she was different
And didn't defend

He said "hold my hands"
She looked smiling,
And had her hands lend
She swirled her fingers
And blades with them,

She stabbed her blade
In his fingers
As she said "The end"

He got up and walked away
And In the forest,
He soaked his own blood
On the blades and then
walked away)

They asked him
Did he cut his own finger
Or did he cut another

He replied
" She was strong and had a big
Shiny blade "
" She lied that it was blunt
And she may evade"
" Though I knew she was lying
And so I fought her with my own
Blade"
" She stabbed me twice but
I prevailed"

They remarked him ,
For that he cut a finger another
And gifted him a new blade,

He spent his days in regret
Scratching the blade
And with his nails
( Becoming ****** and erased)

He was proud for the new blade
He thought it will make him
Anew and remade

But

whenever he saw it
It made him recall
"The smile of the girl
And The lies in her swirl".

Wild & Desperate

Most of life is spent curled;
Caught in the wild and desperate places,
Straddling between two worlds;
Satisfied and striving, for more space,
The here-and-now and the not-yet-inspired.
Being enough and constantly unlaced.

I trusted your name,
So You never killed me,
Never I did either.
What do you have to say ?

Yes,
I killed you.
And I made you suffer.

I was 15,
you were same,
I watched your eyes...
And mine in rain,

I am sorry if
You were in pain  ,
my brother ..
you felt that never,

Your eyes were numb,
Nothing that now ,
That makes me better.

I killed you,
my brother...

I was looking at you,
But you were not,

I am not sure if
I missed you a lot.

There was no blood ,
No body.

If you were in fear..
Waiting there,

All in the woods
Staring stairs,

Had I come down then .....
You would not starve then,
Would you have still waited , then?

What do I do now?

Where have you gone .

You killed me ,my brother,
As you made me suffer ,
From the pain you dealt me
I will never be better.

echoes of guilt cause  
an avalanche of sorrow;
we’re buried alive.