to choose the forest is to be
lost, and lost in the trees
guided by stars, not to a journey
but turning to some place worth exploring

you loved life with your being
and passed the forest for its trees;
the string of red ribbons happens to be
constellations within the captive sea

but lost you were with your own
itself ripped apart of definition
looking back, its love brings you
back to its original destination

though their signposts lead to more obstacles
and landmarks fetter into miserable,
its fractures into a blissful wonder
in place of stars for faded luster

at some point, you just know that
you have got to let them go

of the first time we connected
all those memories we both established
those quirks, my quirks
and remained are flaws, irredeemable flaws

of the places we visited
and of the places that could have been
they now remain as stolen dreams
and retain in them, nightmares born
to its deserving king

of the ideas and lies that
perpetuated my thoughts
to you and for you
like a love that stalks rather
than one you wish I would have

of you
he who once was the sun to me
whose smile was solace like the moon
and though, most probably, it was all built in lies
it was something, truly moving
but remains in the sky, was nothing

that is why these things have to go
the stains that once belonged
and in their places are impressions, gone
what now remains, if they wish to remain,
are dreams that turned into nightmares
ghosts that I long ignored
love once harbored
and... you

in the end, I am declared
guilty

to be free from the chains of contrivance
to finally rely on noble companions
from facade to its truths
born flowers will bore fruit

to be requested release
and to forever deny its reprise

to be loved, and finally to love
and matters not that never mattered
past chains perish, and the future followed
as warm as the sun
forever cursed to bear the fervor

to be chained,

to be denied and drought
as I have done to he
as the moon without its sun

at the start, the only crime committed
was being me

the concept of art
is a mere combination
of common logic
and compelling academic
yet when it comes
to an abstract composition
it all falls down
to pure academic

but it does not mean
that a work’s meaning
becomes diluted with
academic discourse
but it does mean
that its meaning
is measured by
someone who sees
the moment of clarity
at the right distance
at its sufficient mindset

what can be classified
as romantic?
do both parties partially understand
the mechanics
of exchange, its similies and subtleties
or worse,
the nature of its never-stagnant
recourse?

of course, as a writer myself,
one could
always find the answer
but would
never find the perfect example
as if
the mere combination of a couple
letters of

would fit your needs as well as mine
but
nonetheless, my friend, we all
know the
answer, somewhere, and I'd like
to believe
that the person you'd write to
knows that too.

"are you happy?"
echoing
lingering
imitating
reanimating sound

"maybe"
cyclic
anemic
phobic
armistice

"I am asking for a yes or a no"
endangered
requiting
enamored
caprice

"so which is it?"
vibrating
shattering
lingering
doubt

"are you truly happy?"
monotheistic
never-ending
asphyxiating
reprise

I told someone
that I like sunny days
that I like the sun and clouds
above me

That I like the summer breeze
in the hot and humid weather
and the cloudy skies
above me

I like sunny days
Like the person I told
about sunny days to
Days that never end, never waver

Never there
There is always going to be rainy days
As in the darkest clouds and hardest rain,
the coldest wind in the chilling weather

But the skies

The skies remind me of summer
Like the person I told
about sunny days to

And I've always told him
that I liked the weather, hot or cold
and the rain that never seem to waver

above me

The sun is going to rise
Pretty soon,
the flowers will bloom
the trees greet with open arms
the birds hum and the bees buzz
farmers start planting and watering
people start running around for errands
machines start buzzing
cars start driving
and the river starts flowing downstream

It's almost going to end
But pretty soon,
the sun is going to rise
after the long and silent night
everything will start moving
like the sun

hush
don't speak
I know why you feel this way
I know
not because I saw your posts
but because I've been there before

and I know
the best way to catch you
is to show that I am ready
to catch you when you're falling

and I know
that the only way to save you
is to be the one
that can open your eyes
and in the process
be lost in the same eyes
the ones you lost in the first place

but I can't lose myself to you
I can't be the one to save you
I can't be the one for you





but I can still be there for you
I know that I am not what you wanted
but I know I can be the one you needed the most

I know
cause I've been there before
and I don't wanna lose someone
just because I can't be the one
who can save you the way
you wanted it to

I just want to save you

It's almost gone now
The feeling where the wind blows
every single cotton up to the sky
Like a fog of clouds filling the sights of mine

Yet, not all cotton flies like the rest
Some stick to you even when you push it away
Even when you do your best to remove it

So I kept the cotton fur, even if it's annoying
It still makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside

Just for you, dear child
Whose memory weeps of wondrous sorrow
Whose eyes all see the world full of tomorrow

My child, I wish my song can reflect
what your eyes have seen, what my heart has deflected.
I longed to live within your world
But I cannot walk, I can only sing you a song

Little is the song alive for you to see
But darling, you can only hear it in memory
That's my song just for you
I wish that you can hear me too.

Dear foolish child, I wish you can hear me
As much as you would love to see the world without worries

Far from here, away from me
A monster resides in the sea
As dark and as calm like the eye of the storm
Lingering deep down silently from many

It feeds off from the people who
Comes and goes
Into the eye of the dark storm
Away from the noise of premonition

And it moves, either fast or slowly
Within the waters of the sea
Eating away any fantasy

And the ships that managed to sail within
Face a monster that murders and kills
They either sink deep down or sail away

An entity who seems to embody something
And little by little, it follows me

To the point that it vanishes in the sea
Unbeknownst to many, it was underneath

It's calm, it's dark, I cannot see

That the monster in the sea was actually me

It was then that I believed again,
that maybe after the fight, maybe after everything,
maybe if the storm has finished its symphony
everything would be as it should have been

Me, falling asleep, within your arms,
and you, trying to sleep within mine,
and us, trying to figure out whether it was love or not.

I didn't understand anything yet.
I didn't grasp the sight of your eyes through mine
or the wondrous melancholy of your personality.
I didn't do anything. I cannot do anything.

And at times, I fell prey to my darkness.
I further regretted the moment that I knew,
the moment when I thought I really knew

that I could possibly fall in love again,
and you can possibly give it back.

Yet you, as I knew, weren't like the others.
At times of misery, you appeared before me.
At times of darkness, you served as my light.
But I can't do anything still for you.

But even after everything, even after the symphony,
you grabbed my hand, and I followed
out of the storm, and into your heart.

That's when I believed again