"anesthesia" poems
ANUNG ALAM NATIN SA PAG-IBIG?
ito ba ay tungkol sa naglalakihang mga mata
kapag nakakakita ng magandang dalaga
na naglalakad sa kalsada
isipin na nating..
maikli ang kanyang palda
maputi ang hita
malaki ang dibdib
teka
tama na
nakaklibog na diba!?
o kaya naman ang pagmamahal
ay parang
yung ating nararamdaman kapag ang ating mga balat
ay nakakapagtindig balahibo
dahil sa hindi maintindihang halimuyak ng galak
o ito ba
ay yung mga pagbabago ng kulay sa ating mga pishi
kapag tayo ay kinikilig ng lubusan
dahil nga ang sweet sweet niya
kulang nalang magkadiyabetes ang puta
ganun ba ang pag-ibig?
ganun ba ang pagmamahal?
ANUNG ALAM NATIN SA PAG-IBIG?
ito ba yung kapag dalawa lamang kayo
nakahiga sa mga damuhan
o kaya nakaupo tumitingin sa kalangitan
habang nilalanghap ang simoy ng hangin
sa taas ng gusali o kaya bubungan
na niloloko ang sarili kapag tinuro mo ang iyong daliri sa mga bituwin
at sinasabi na ang bituwin na yan
ang parang hugis puso
kahit hindi naman talaga
para masabi kolang na meron tayong pag-ibig
para masabi kolang na tinadhana talaga tayo para sa isat-isa
kahit hindi naman talaga
ganun ba ang pag-ibig?
ganun ba ang pagmamahal?
ANUNG ALAM NATIN SA PAG-IBIG?
ito ba ay yung may nakilala kang tao
na wala kang ideya kung sino
na ang inyong bigalang tagpuan
ay hindi niyo naman pinaghandaan
o kaya naman ang makilala nating ang tunay nating pagkatao
na tayo ay hindi basta tao
tayo ay merong kadiliman na hindi purong kabutihan
na kailangan man tayo ay tao
napapagod din
natututong sumuko at bumitaw
sa kapit ng "kaya ko pa"
dahil kailanman walang anesthesia na dumadaloy sa ating katawan
para hindi tayo masaktan
ganun ba ang pag-ibig?
ang pagbitaw ba ay pagmamahal?
ang pagsuko ba ay pagmamahal?
ANUNG ALAM NATIN SA PAG-IBIG?
ito ba ay yung paguubos natin ng oras
kahit na alam natin na ito ay walang kwenta
pero wala nakong pakialam
dahil nga kasama kita
na ang saya saya natin dalawa
nagtatawan kahit sumakit pa ang tiyan
hinuhusgahan ang mundo
sinasabihan ng mga tinatago niyong sikreto
wala kanang pakialam
kase nga kasama mo ako
na sana
hindi na matapos to
tayong dalawa
ikaw
ako
at ang ating magagandang mermorya
ay itatago ko at aalagaan dito sa puso ko
ganun ba ang pag-ibig?
ang paglaan ba ng oras ay pagmamahal?
ANUNG ALAM NATIN SA PAG-IBIG?
ito ba ay yung galak kapag nakikita kita
o kaya yung kapag kasama kita
kapag ako'y ubos na
pagod sa katotohang na ang mundo ay hindi basta basta
andiyan ka palage
nakaaalalay
handang ibigay ang balikat masandalan lang ng mabigat na isipan
ganun ba ang pag-ibig?
ganun ba ang pagmamahal?
ANUNG ALAM NATIN SA PAG-IBIG?
ito ba yung pakiramdam
kapag tayo'y nagpapaulan
na para bang gusto na nating sumuko
sumuko dahil tayo ay pagod na
sumuko dahil ang mga sinabi kong halimbawa ng pagmamahal
ay malayo sa katotohanan ng buhay nating dalawa
iniisip kung ano pa ang ibabato sa atin ng buhay
sige ibigay mo ang lahat
hindi ako basta basta natutumba
hinihiling na sana magkasama tayo sa huli
sana wala nang huli
sana wala tayong dulo
dahil ayoko, na ito ay magwakas pa
o kaya hindi na natin ito inintindi
dahil ang gulo na ng isipan
nandun parin ako
nagpapaulan
hinahayan na mabasa ang sarili
walang pakialam kung magkasakit pa kinabukasan
basta ako ay basang basa na
niyayakap ang ngayon
tinalikuran ang masamang kahapon
anung alam natin sa pag-ibig?
meron ba tayong alam tungkol sa pagmamahal?
anung alam natin?
ang unti
ang onti lang ng alam natin sa pagmamahal
napakaonti
na nagbibigay sa atin ng galak
ng sige gusto ko pa
ng ibigay mo na lahat wag kanang magtira
dahil gusto ko maranasan ang pag-ibig
bigyan moko ng pagibig
bigyan moko ng pagmamahal
mahal, anung alam natin sa pag-ibig?
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 1:23 PM UTC
#Preface
This is not aimed at a single person, nor written for applause. It is a naming, a mirror, a reminder that truth spoken with accountability carries its own fire. The Witness belongs to anyone willing to bear that flame, even for a moment.
This is not accusation, but naming in clarity:
Projection is the currency.
The herd is the instrument.
Seduction is the method.
Obscurity is the shield.
And when truth enters,
it unsettles the herd.
The first defense is always the lullaby..
soft verses sung to calm the trembling,
to cradle the anxious back into sleep.
But the lullaby is no vision;
it is anesthesia, a narcotic of words.
It soothes so that no one questions
the darkness that holds them.
Yet the mantle descends where it will.
A word spoken in accountability burns like flame,
piercing the fog, shattering the spell.
Even for a moment, it breaks the hold
and shows the rulers for what they are:
*unclothed,
powerless,
undone.*
#
Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 2:25 PM UTC
A leather chair
It's comfy
And the headrest actually fits!
The woman
A nurse of some sort
Explains **** near everything
"This does blaahhh
And that does bluhhhhh
And this other thing does
Blegghhhhh"
Thanks.
Let's just get it over with
Then in comes the dentist
Well
He's an oral surgeon
He tells me his name
And hooks up an IV
And in goes the anesthesia
BLACKNESS
A comfy chair
I must be coming to
But in the office?
Then I hear the cat
Ohhhhhh
I'm home
Ok
Cool.
What do you mean?
All I can eat is ice cream?
And mashed potatoes?
Ughh... I wish I was back asleep.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
You look at the world through empty orbs,
ignoring the beauty that swells within.
Your lips work like anesthesia,
numbing your words till they have no meaning.
Sometimes I have to wonder, who you really are.
If I’d knock on you, and hear an echo,
sound bouncing off skin walls.
I want to reach down your throat and strike a match.
Ignite a fire in your gray soul.
Fill you up with fiery flickering hues.
A passion that forces you into motion.
Awakening your mind, realizing your truth.
A yearning for life beyond just living.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 3:59 PM UTC
I've lost a battle
Within my soul
My mind is unsettle
Forgot about my goal
Now trying to revive
To recollect and recall
The medium to survive
Before another fall
The pressure is intense
From my own peers
My heart goes in pretense
Hiding all my fears
Night brings in dark thoughts
To harm myself again with pains
Destined to fight these lots
But my hands are soaked with stains
Blood, it is mixed with ink
As I write on these walls
Drawing up my insanity link
That's when I heard the calls
Ambu sirens squeak the street
Someone rushes in my room
Gives me anesthesia as a greet
But time kicked me to my doom...
©sim
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 7:04 PM UTC
Who am I?
I am a fool;
Who knows not that electricity shocks him
Nor that the knife cuts him
Nor do I know that love is lethal.
But alas I am a fool;
Many are willing to take advantage of this
While I am lost
In the bliss of love
They say that love is anesthesia
That it dulls the pain,
But in my opinion
All it does is bring it back again.
And so I am left
to pick up the pieces,
of the fool
who once loved.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
I am tired of writing love songs about you
Because they do not work
Because I cannot bring myself to summarise the hurt
When it's greater than just words
I traced your lips with my fingertips
As you held my neck and drowned me
I tried to keep the bubbles in my hands
For the day you'd come drown me again
Funny how a heart so small
Could wreck such treacherous trouble
Will you hold me closer?
When you say 'sing me a song'
And I think it's because you love it
But you were right all along
You were in love with my need
A need for something more than greed
And I could not play along
So the songs sounded the same
Because all we had was a blank page
Blander than a desert tongue
Will you hold me closer?
And still I begged
Because it is all I know to do
I crashed walls through
Just to get to you
A fool a fool a fool
I played for you
I turned tipsy as the world went spinning round and round in psychedelic swabs
Liquor after liquor
Anesthesia
Only brings out pain
I gave in
Because it is all I know to do
In a dark place full of wastrels waiting for love
Will you hold me closer?
I came here
Ready to regret
A little revelry to rock the bland away
Yet how far could I run with your clutches round my neck?
I tore up the pieces of paper
That I wasted all on you
Happier times
Haughtier lies
I tore up all the words I gave to you
No more poetry for the first time your lips touched mine
Or how you playfully pushed me by the seaside
The days before you showed your wicked side
No more circles with endless lines
Here I'm staring at the blank page right before my eyes
Ready to rewrite
What was life like
Before you?
Your eyes meet mine amd smile
One last time
Will you hold me closer?
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 6:30 AM UTC
You are quite a gifted surgeon.
In fact you cut me so clean and sharp
I barely even knew it at the time.
Waking the next day in my hospital bed
was where I met my pain.
Being with you was like anesthesia:
I was so grateful for you to help me.
You were the one who weakened me.
My senses failed: your scalpel cut
clean to the core, and then I just let you
sew me back together. The nurses say
I am very lucky, that I had a good doctor.
I know better. I was once a person and
now I am Sally Stitches, or better yet, Raggedy Ann.
I am no one's operation game.
Letting you in brings only stitches and needles,
and it was I who checked myself in.
I need to learn to stitch myself at home.
Consider this my checking out.
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 5:59 PM UTC
Collection of characteristics
that the outside world
deems desirable:
empathy,
gentleness,
sensitivity,
the ability to love
deeply, madly.
Yet,
from where I stand,
the view is bleak,
for having a heart that
is big
means that it is
a hundred times more likely
to be punctured.
I wonder
how many times
my soul can
take these blows
before it withers
into
nothingness.
My body aches
of a perceived emptiness
that is
grossly
full of
an echoing,
resounding compilation
of disappointment,
anger,
and despair;
and though I am sad
in the free flowing of
my own bitter words,
I breathe in a jagged breath,
heave a large sigh,
and succumb to my
self-induced
anesthesia
as my big heart
is transplanted
with some smaller,
colder *****
that is not
riddled
with
pain
and
dismay.
I want to be
small,
simple,
average,
for there is nothing
to be desired
in anguish,
and I now
find myself
writhing in
envy of
those who possess
the gift
of
apathy.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 1:45 AM UTC
Life is like a suicide hike,
Although it's a beautiful trail
It's scary to think one day we'll fall.
We fall because we walk on edges,
Some worth walking on, some not.
Ultimately, we learn from both.
Be careful who you choose to walk with,
Be careful who you choose to sit with.
Because they may just push you off
And way down you'll be falling down.
But sometimes it wasn't them who pushed you off
But it was them you thought would help you up.
And when we've hit our lowest point in life
We start looking for the root of our pain,
But it's dark and empty, it stings we feel lost.
It's no paradise down here, the pain feeds on our strength.
It's a tragic accident that breaks all of our bones.
With no paramedics or anesthesia, we've got to operate ourselves.
We don't know which injury is killing us more,
But we know a slow death is coming for us.
Our blood no more, regret is what the heart pumps now,
We scream and cry away our mistakes
But down here is a curse playing our fall in a loop,
I don't know when it stops
I'm drowning myself in my pain.
I've stained my soul with too much hate
I'm no longer the person who I used to be.
I've been down in the dark for too many days
But when I start my hike again
I hope to go further than yesterday.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
I can't wait 'til
Nightfalls
Tonight
I will
Construct nightmares
So insane
Phantoms couldn't fathom
Fantasies make foul turns
Fascination fails
You'll frail frantically
Your chain of the thoughts
Become a train
Derailed
From Loco motives
Your emotions
Are now
Monstrous motifs
Built moments
Before happiness
You'll stare
In terror eyes
Scared as cats
You scratch
Along the wood floor
Forced
Through dark corridors
The doors
Horror tore off the hinges
You're inches away
From no longer living
As soon
As you've given
Yourself away
I take
And make worse!
Death dances
At arms lengths
I've never seen someone
so anxious
To reach
Too anguished to speak
How shall I satisfy?
This shallow heart
Is empty
But simply filled the rows
Of this cathedral
With people
Who payed
To see the price
You've payed
I guess,
Hell sales
This thriller will terrify
Eye's should stay confined
When I
Comply to my conscience
Can science comfort you
It claims this isn't real
Well
It really helped me
Make you feel
Comfortable enough
To sleep
Deeply
Anesthesia
Will be the
Reason for your sweet retreat
As soon as your
Sound asleep
I'll compile vile thoughts
And send you on a journey
With intent
Of you never returning
A one-way trip
From float, freight or flight
As long as it brings
Fright
By mars at night
Where nightmares
Are the day
And you're fearful of it's sight
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 11:37 PM UTC
My mind keeps pictures of you up on its walls
again
and again
I find my thoughts drifting down that river of memory
orbiting around you, like forces of gravity drawn
to the idea of us (if there even is an us)
If I could then I’d lock you outside my brain, leave you out there to rot
in the abyss, where your words couldn't penetrate me
and your lips that work like anesthesia forbidden to numb me again
I won't do you the injustice of romanticizing your imperfections
You're no nebular, you're a black hole, a gaping flaw in creation
Your eyes that held millenniums of history, now hold me no future
You made me forget what it feels to have stability
To not walk out of a room and forget why I left
You make me want to shred the skin you touched
Like a reptile, to become reborn, purified from my past.
There never were any butterflies in your stomach, only parasites
but you fed them to me readily like a disease
So no, I won’t dedicate you another love poem
no I want (deserve) better
This isn't what love should be
I’ll write you a poem where the words convulse on the page
and you’ll forget to read it (you always do)
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
what do you do when the person you hate the most is yourself?
what am I to do when all my thoughts revolve around you,
where do I sign up to get self help?
I miss the way you would do your curly hair.
I regret the fact that we never went to the fair.
I miss that black shirt you have with that little pizza slice on it,
you were my form of anesthesia, now everyday feels like ****
I miss it. What we had, looking back, it wasn't all that bad.
I miss that time of day,
sunset,
where I would forget all of my heart's regrets
and watch you stare at the sun
we did the dumbest things just for fun.
you shined brighter than the lighter that lit those cigarettes you hated so much,
no matter how often you inadvertently hurt me, I can't hold a grudge,
you are the one who can truly judge.
take me to court, decide if I get to go free living so sadly,
or incarcerate me and my inner demons, can the state fund my treatment?
trick question, the cure is a secret.
it's not a drug, pill, or form of escape,
it was that girl I could never make feel safe.
she was the princess in the tower,
but the dragon guarding it had too much power.
he whispered my worst fears into my ears,
my mind went blank,
and that's when I sank into this hole called depression
being sad?
I'm so good at that, I'd call it my profession.
I'll be the first to admit I am very weak,
I have no right to speak.
I'll just sing my hate at the stars,
let it drift off into space.
maybe the gods above will pity my mortality,
think about my well being more than she does.
who is she?
everything I've ever wanted,
giver her back to me.
P L E A S E ...
?
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
Trophies for last place,
And a Holiday for every weekend.
A taste of this and that...
OF Italy and Ireland and Asia and Germany
and every township in the county,
and 3 collective Miles of
Portable Toilets,
Strategically Positioned
throughout each event.
cause there is going to be a Lot of ****
Hooray for whatever we are celebrating this weekend.
Whichever one of the 30 different Woodstocks
Or week long Music Festivals
That exist only so
the Hippest of Hipsters
can congratulate each other
on how Indie they are.
Ya know, it's happy hour somewhere...
Why not party
All Day, Everyday?
Devalue the weekend
Like we have thanksgiving
And New Years.
A Five Kay For the Common Cold,
And We'll even give trophies for last place.
Cause we're all winners here.
and we're all hungry.
And What represents your heritage better than
Pizza or sauerkraut or General Tso's
And endless flowing barrels of refreshing, Ice cold, Domestically brewed and Nationally brand recognized Alcoholic Beverages?
IT's The Great Dumb Down, Charlie Brown!!!
A symptom of the Universe
If there ever was one.
Mass anesthesia to keep us all content
With our collective mediocrities,
our Forfeit Potential,
Our Day Job that doesn't pay very well,
But kind has benefits.
So we stay on.
In fear of nothing better.
It makes feel important.
Like Wheel of Fortune makes us feel smart.
(Wow, you can spell?!)...
Dwindling returns in a world of Beige and Pastels
And the Muted Grays of limestone concrete.
We Accept less and we Get less and we accept less and we Get less
And On And on and on,
till we hit that lowest common cultural denominator,
where your race is what food you eat,
And we all qualify for the special Olympics.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
of all the things i've ever loved
you deserve it most,
and i am inadequate.
if drinking's a sin
and drugs are expensive
how am i to numb this?
i've never craved anesthesia
until tonight
school taught me about bones
but it never mentioned
how caged they would make me feel
i'm trapped in this body
restricted by the only thing that's truly mine
no one likes a broken mind
everyone pities the girl with scars
and i don't understand
why some are born happy
and others with a deathwish
and maybe i'm not meant
for this life
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC
What happened a week ago
I’m still recovering
Some have told me I’m in mourning
when you lose something that was a part of you for so long
I feel like I’ve lost a limb or
a big chunk of my heart
what happened a week ago
friendships severed, felt like an amputation without the anesthesia
sawing and gnawing
whittle by whittle
the pain, never less than searing
what happened a week ago
I feel the phantom limb
I think it’s still there
I go to my inbox, check the chats, click one and
BOOM
shouting matches and f-bombs being dropped like the a-bomb on Hiroshima
my words, arrows dipped in poison
I flung everything I had
poured my chopped up heart onto a silver platter and let the blood drip drop for all to see
what happened a week ago
I said some things I shouldn’t have
I let my heart speak instead of my head
letting my anger and red flurries get the best of me
what happened a week ago
is an awful lot like what happened 11 years ago
I’m six years old
piecing together a puzzle of forgiveness
walking back to my room after a yelling match with my sister
I scribble I’m so sorry I got mad at you on the back of my homework
slide it under her door
and wait
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 12:14 AM UTC
Little petty mistakes threw us apart
Dragging me into anesthesia
Down in the memory lane
Lies nothing but pain
I'm alive but I feel so detached from the world
It's a state so queer and strange
With every piercing flashback
I fall deeper into anesthesia
My body lies still on the ground
But my soul is bursting like flames
And every flame burns every inch of my existence
It's a state of heartbreak
But it's still more than just that
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
I lay on my hospital bed,
waiting for the anesthesia to kick in.
Feeling dizzy. Turning sleepy.
There's no one there to hold my hand.
The nurses looking at me,
waiting to start the procedure.
Looking tired. Pacing quiet.
My body starts to go numb.
I will soon be out of this world,
at least for a few hours.
Running free. Feel no pain.
My eyes start to lose reality.
I wish I could stay numb
until I have to sleep forever.
Have no fear. Living strong.
So please, Mr. surgeon, leave the anesthesia on.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
Pre
*City noise drowned by my ears.
Rays of sunlight passed through leaves.
As cool breeze blew my hair,
I realize, I really wasn't there.*
Peri
*Inoculation started with titanium tips;
I looked elsewhere and thought real deep.
Anesthesia sunk down in my cheeks.
My face feel numb with swollen lips.
I think my mind wandered far enough,
Little me saying "Hey, I'm tough."
But my tongue tasted blood and rust.
But hey, I still do give my trust.*
Post
*Continuously, he said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
While bringing it back, after taking the ivory.
The familiar scent of isopropyl filled the air.
He gave me a specimen of the ivory that I once took care.*
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
got a condo in manhattan
but it's empty unless i want to be
cold in the winter
and alone; comfortable
used to call an old flame up around that
area and just vibe
no words, pure concentration on
the movements of our energies
and how they connect to the stars
above or maybe we were just high
out of our minds and being warm
next to each other watching the rain
was something we both could take
home with nostalgic feelings
silence so comforting and numbing
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 12:09 PM UTC
death is blunt.
eloquence means nothing
and charismatic words
don't do a ****
death is blunt.
and infinite reminder
to this finite span of life
a permanent problem
to a temporary solution
death is blunt.
in the end we're all just dust
no emotions, no thoughts
just the soil and us
death is blunt.
the poetic anthesis
anesthesia of the soul
period. end. done.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 12:03 AM UTC
I'm going to sleep so I don't feel the pain.
Forget about the world for a moment,
but never about you.
You who care.
You who worry I won't wake up.
*I promise I will... for you.*
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 7:16 AM UTC
my eyes open, sullenly.
not a movement from
my body,
but that of my left arm,
reaching out for
that awful device
that forces me
to comprehend
a drab reality.
tap to snooze
waking up from a dream
where every day isn’t
the same monotony,
and every class isn’t
the same anesthesia,
and every moment
isn’t enveloped
in the pain
of missing you.
tap to snooze
i lay here hoping
begging, even,
that this burden
of waking life will cease,
and that one day
i will cross over
to the sleep realm
and never again
will i need to
tap to snooze
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC