Kalong ng kanyang ina
ang isang labing anim na taong gulang na binatilyo.

Basang-basa.

Nangingitim ang mukha at di na humihinga.

Patay na yata.

Nakuryente siya
habang ini-aakyat ang black and white
na telebisyong kasasangla lang
ng isang magsasakang magpapa-check-up sa PGH-
sa ikalawang palapag ng kanilang 5 square meter na tahanan.

May bagyo noon. Super.

At umapaw ang ilog.

Ang sabi sa radyo nakataas na ang signal no.3 sa buong Central Luzon.

Nag-iisip pa rin siya (ang ina) habang binabagtas
ng sinasakyan nilang rubber boat na kulay dilaw
ang daan papuntang evacuation center.

Hindi na niya nagawang magsuklay at mag-suot ng bra.

Kalong niya ang kanyang binatilyong
pangarap mag-aral sa Maynila-

na kanya ngayong ipinagluluksa.

Sa Maynila,

sa isang pamantasang kulay langit ang pasukan at labasan,

nagdiriwang ang mga paang patungo sa Robinsons.

Alas dose.
Cut ang klase.

#WalangPasok.

I ****** thousands of rappers
Jus wit verses out of chapters
Of the wrath out the Masters
Bible
Its titled
Disciple
Of God
Against all odd
I crucify
All.rappers an then get baptized
Cant.stone me
They need to clown me
Cuz the angel atoned
From the seeds of jesus
So.i.reaped the beatings
Of my.savior
So savor
The real.kings of Egypt
Cuz we the chosen people
The devil need.you
To not believe in who
God
He deceives you
Underneath the roots
Is where.he resides
Until the darkness shall rise
Again
So this angel against
The world im storing treasures in heaven
Im God secret weapon
Protected
Kept it
Now im released
In.the belly of the beast
But i feast
An eat
My way out till peace

TW: suicide / cancer / brutal imagery

july isn't a good month for me
it is a collection of all the things
i have had taken away. it is a
bitter winter chill through a
summer i do not get to enjoy.
july is lonely.
it breaks apart all the other months
like a pack of werewolves; it is
their alpha and i have six months
before everyday is a full moon
and my legs are tired of running
from it. i have six months to
enjoy the fresh scent of crisp air,
to feel the iciness of snow without
shivering through my skin. i try
to break out of this body, try to
knit myself a new one out of
preloved sweaters hoping their
stories will become my own so that
i may have a july worth talking about.
suicide happens all year round but
your suicide happened in july and
has happened every month in my
mind since. i have lost count of the
way i try to contact you to say
i'm sorry.
maybe my spiritual journey wasn't
my own; i convince myself the
universe will show me your face again
one day and i hope it is not in july.
people suffer from cancer throughout
everyday of the year but you suffered
in july. i watched the sunset through
hospital windows, smelt more chemicals
than fresh flowers, held back more
tears than my throat knew how to
swallow. has anyone ever drowned
without being submerged in water?
i have.
i imagined cracking my skull off the
glass confining you to this ward, to
this smell of microwave meals and
this buzzing of machines echoing
like an emergency and my heart is
on standby, i imagined it would give
the ward some colour because i am
so sick of seeing white.
and this july
this july,
i hold your hand as your treatment
continues. i do not feel the sun on
my face because you cannot feel it
on yours. i watch the sunset through
windows. carry the bodybag of my
soul around in "i'm fine" and "i'm okay."
i don't think my voice could drip
with any more sadness as i envision the
words cascading down glass panels
hoping if i spell it out for the world
to see, someone will stop and ask me
why i hate july, or at least,
if i'm okay.

Not all blessings happen in the same week
But everything eventually comes to me
There's still a lot of life to be displayed
Grab a shield until the fears go away
Afternoon nightmares held my face
Reaper with the scythe of I'm not okay
Lucifer came, and from there I prayed
To **** every deathwish and plague

I know you haven't found a home
I know, it shows, so have
My arms, my heart, my soul

I'm gonna put the ******* demon
In a barbed wire bodybag for one reason
Don't think about hurting that girl again
Or you'll see how this story will end
You do not lay on a crown of thorns
Now see what I could use this fire for
I'm burning the bag inside of the black
And I'm taking her ******* soul back

Chamber a round
And head for the door
Gathered the gear
And left my fear

Today is just another day
The things I forgot to say
Last night
After the fight

I still can’t believe
I just couldn’t see
Before the explosion
As everything went dark

As the dust settles
And the area is cleared
The words come to me
That I didn’t say last night

I love you
I always will
Don’t forget me
Always and forever

Any of them I could say
Now I never get the chance
As the flag is lowered
Atop my bodybag

I'm a survivor of 3 car wrecks
I'm no god
I'm an athiest till day I see one
I'm in love with the idea of love
I'm no man
I'm the boy hiding under his blanket
To scared of the night
I'm an orphan to emotions
Yet I still feel
The jaded truth to me
I'm just a mask
I'm a name with no face
A body without a soul
A life no longer worth living
If you saw me
You'd only know I'm as dead as corpses
I'm the jester making everyone laugh
Hiding tears so the mascara doesnt run
I'll take a bow making sure
I keep my head down when I leave the stage
I'm shakespeares tragedy come to fruition
I'm the chalkline on pavement
The bodybag only filled with sorrow
I'll take this time to bid goodbye
Idk if I'll survive this car wreck
The collision of rusty twisted steel with flesh
I only know the intent of why I'm walking the gallows
I'm a ghost coming and going
So maybe its my que
To take my final absence

Through his young belly as through mine, middling,
a bullet would tear equally smoothly.
But I am not in those photographs.

I am sometimes impressed with what I have survived
with no more than this glassy girdle as penance.
And though I never would have harmed the world as much
I have broken a birdhouse or two.

I still want his bodybag to lead to a better life.

He was not the sum of his parts,
he was the sum of his parts
and what they would become.
And he was twenty.

We are bonded, he and I: brothers in death
a ragged band of ***** flesh -
a fraternity of the frail!
so
vile as you are, vile as I sometimes am:
I can do no other than
touch your hand, if outstretched,
lay a kiss on your cheek for want of warmth
to ask you back into my home for bread.

Your caretaker am I,
and theirs, too.
I can bear their loss no more than yours
or yours more than theirs.

I wish all happiness.
I wish ALL happiness.
I wish all, all happiness.

As much happiness as they can fit in their mouths.
As much as I can swallow without chewing,
though I am so tempted to chew.

I feel low‬
‪Low down. ‬
‪ Sunken into the ground‬

‪My body weeps, ‬
‪seeps, ‬
‪On the floor‬
‪a **** carpet, slimy tendrils;‬

‪engulf and smother me. Please. ‬

‪Fill my ears, ‬
‪Cover the irises. ‬
‪Coalesce, a bodybag - zipped tight. ‬
‪It’s alright.‬

‪I don’t want to feel‬

‪ Low. ‬
‪Low down. ‬

The angle is clear, go.
We saw all thier hopelessness.
Pray heaven for them, they weep thier lonely songs.
Crying empty tears through moulded heartless glass goggles.
Clawing at what is set before,
We see what we bled behind,
The laceration, crystal inevitability.
Hindsight is a hand grenade.
Would you blow up yourself?
Pieces. Jigsaw. Do they match up?
Black bag demon swimming effortlessly through the air. He knows his destination and he glides effortlessly across the chunks of human.
Cradle to the grave. Polyethylene panther.
Silent in its mission but getting tired of a full meaty meal. What makes a bodybag in the desert?

i thought i knew pain before. you know, a relative passes away; you get our heart broken. you get used abused, hurt. the usual stuff: and you were sure that was pain. but no.
(family member passes away, an al that. normal pain. an i really thought i knew..)
i thought i knew pain. but seeing someone in their prime become a ******* vegetable. seeing your friend go home in bits and pieces shoved in a bodybag, the carrying on with business as usual. being tossed head first into a hell hole where eeryone wants you dead.
(seein the fittest lad in the corp become a fuckinvegetable. goin on with biz as usual after ur mate is sent home in bits n pieces thrown in a body bag.)

its not a normal kind of pain because its unnatural. theres no recovry; no great lesson to be learned from it. its exactly what you come to feel life is after yu feel it: utterly meaningless