They say we can sense
hearing
smell
sight
touch
sound
taste

but what about danger?
love?
fear?

we can sense that someone is creeping up behind us
and sense that something bad is about to happen
can sense the change in the pressure in the air
and the need of someone else for a hug or kind word.

to say we have only five
is underestimating

but to say we have infinite?
we understand but few...
and that is why we teach five.

I do not understand why my shell is stronger than my soul
every single subconscious want is stuck in an eternal state of escape
slowly clawing away at my energy field
even the conscious thoughts I udder now are a work of my frontal lobe
a combination of fat and water that will one day be just that
what will it take for this exponentially real self of mine to erupt
too long I have sat in a puddle of this realization, this discomfort,
waiting
I am living as a shell of a person
stuck in a continuum of who I am and who I want to be
in this other reality, everything is an unexplored field
I am on a new level each time I turn the corner
no longer are there restraints
no longer do I feel this pain
my mind is not stuck in this body because I am my mind
I am my experience and that of which is experiencing me is my soul
soon drifting I become every electrical impulse,
and all of which is uncharged at the same time
no longer am I woman or even human
I am what is, what is not, and what always has been
now infinite, I escape

Your lips
Are bliss
Upon which
I land so
Gracefully
With every kiss. <3

As the moon loves the stars, and
as the sun loves the sky, and
as the shorelines love the ocean,
I Love You.

And in a  quiet, half-lit room,
alit by both the sun and moon,
I let your image in my mind,
take over almost all my time.

And there, my mind, preoccupied,
will not stray with matters outside,
I'll think sweetly of your soft lips,
and how I wish to taste each kiss.


And when the moon succeeds the sun,
and the time for dreams has begun,
I'll lay in my cold, empty bed,
Wishing you close, alone instead.

we took deep breaths of each other's presence
both dreading the exhale
but you were the one that lit me up
and ceased to acknowledge that the buzz would remain after you put me out.
it's been a month of hiding from my infatuation with you
behind the bodies of those that couldn't change the fact that not being you made them useless to me.
it's been a whole ******* month since I've felt your kiss, petted your dog, lusted over your words, gotten lost in your smile, been enlightened by your stories, and been called beautiful in the midst of my vulnerability.
you were my valentine
oblivious to your ability to stop time,
that's why a month has felt like a century
even though it was the shortest month of the year.

maybe we were two lonely souls in an
infinite number of universes
that coexists at the same time
so in the least cases when other universes
cease to rotate;
we were looking at each other’s eye—
half consciously exchanging breaths as we stood
in a random street on a random time with random people
in Metro Manila.

maybe we were two lonely souls
devoid of life with its absurdities and ambiguities
that when other universes began to move—
adverse was ours.
we were motionless and breathless
and static and frantic
amongst the dismal place where we stood
under the rain and under the heat of the sun;
dear, did you feel the spontaneity of our souls
for the first time in a lifetime?

maybe we were two lonely souls
searching for our own universe in this
infinite number of universes that when
we finally had the chance to meet on
a road with nowhere to go while listening
to our timeless symphonies of pleasure, pain, and lost;
we found universe at each other’s soul.

maybe we were two lonely souls
before we met in Metro Manila.
maybe we were two lonely souls
when we were living in abyss.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we found our infinite universe at each other.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we knew love.

(06.19.16)

The audience, silent, took a breath in unison
Included in the orchestra was every instrument imaginable
Banhus and Gadulkas played folk and polkas
The brutish brass, bodyguards and protectors of stringed melodies

Included in the orchestra was every instrument imaginable
A concert harp, plucked by fingers long, smooth and sharp
The brutish brass, bodyguards and protectors of the woodwind class
Saxophones provided a melancholy lilt, the timp was traditionally built

A concert harp, stroked by running fingers, smooth and sharp
Every sharp and flat note was passed through the throaty reeds of oboes
Saxophones reminiscent of ‘jive’, the timp in its size had nowhere to hide
This exhibition of musical traditions played late into evening with no intermissions

Every sharp and flat note accounted for, motifs carried whispers of folklore
Banhus and Gadulkas, swapped stories with bassoons and bagpipes
The exhibition had finished, piano keys rested, every note has its operatic death

The audience, silent, took a breath in unison