I’d conjure Fall leaves to follow you
Bright hues, radiant in gold and plum
And they’ll speak of what magic I’ve done
I’d seem like a great wizard tis is true
But such magic would barely compare at all
To your gaze which causes my chest to fall
From Helios heights where frost doesn’t thaw
Where lust and love’s leaflets languish like law
Where passion’s ruthless river is rushing raw
From this endangered emotive environment I fall
And naturally I then tumble from my studied reason
But luckily Fall is my favorite season

it's kind of scary.

you can feel it too, can't you?

the words you see flashed as headlines
feel like they're already being written down
on our tombstones.

everyday feels like it's going to be jotted down
by students somewhere in the future-
a history class on dictatorships.

perhaps the reason history books are so heavy
is because they are thick with the weight of our sins.

they gave our rights a pittance because
they no longer pretend to care.
it's called human rights
as in human.
maybe it's cause they don't consider us human anymore.

i can see that.
it's hard to see a person
wrapped in garbage bags and duct tape.

this is why there are checks and balances-
protections against the state's monopoly on violence.
it's just sad that we were stripped of them as easily as
pulling a trigger.

how much are we worth to them, i wonder?
i suppose the math should be easy.

one thousand divided by one hundred three million.
that's how much our individual rights are worth.

around zero point zero zero zero nine seven pesos.

not even enough to buy a lottery ticket.

and certainly not enough to buy us liberty.

i'm hoping the last time i see you
is not on the other side of a history book.

As I scale the *****
I note the melody of the wind
With its sweeping symphonic shifts
My nails grind against granite
Before flaking and falling into the abyss
Yet I persist
Upward along the lone path
Where the air recedes like tides
And frost forms fellowship upon my eyes
Before seeking to turn my sore limbs, frigid
Icily assuring each ache is anchored in anxiety
Which stems from the worn clothes of society
Yet as I climb, the fabric is discarded
Like old styles of yesteryear
Now basking in all my naturalness
I finally summit, my thoughts thankfully descend
My heart lifts up its scepter and then my chin
Beating with Brilliance it grins
Furls up it sleeves and wordlessly begins
The work of healing from within