Some people show their gifts as badges
They put them on their foreheads
They put them on their jackets
They put them next to their hearts
Some people hide their gifts as plagues
They put them under the carpet  
They lock them in a cage
They lie and say they have none
They convince other people of their inexistence
Some people hide their talents so well
Some people eventually forget they ever had a talent at all

There once was a girl who now no longer exists
In a city that no longer exist, with a name
That no one in existence can pronounce
And that only inexistence can imagine.
She lay in a bed that also no longer exists
Playing a game, that only existed in nonexistence,
With a boy whose existence is, again, no longer real.
The one rule of this game that has long been lost in existence
If it ever really existed at all, the one rule of this bed game was and is,
The bed is the only thing that exists at all.
The boy and the girl who both no longer exist they,
Drew a line around the bed, rendering it their only plane of existence
Neither a toe nor a finger could touch the floor as they were sure
That that was too close to earth to not nonexistence
And touching this floor, this divider between existing and not,
Was not the point in their coexistence in their nonexistence
You see this game was not for those who exist
Because they did not exist. Not in this house,
On this street, in this city, all of which are no longer in existence.
But they exist to one another in their bed of inexistence
But to no one that now exists at all.
Centuries of existence will be worth this kind of inexistence.

There is
a perpetual hole in my life
where you used to be

And it doesn’t matter if
it’s only been an hour
Or seventeen days
Or seven months
Or three years.
It’s still there.

It has the cruelest consequences.
Even when you’re absent
You’re here with me.
and when I want you to be gone,
You are
but I feel your goneness,
and your absence
becomes a presence.
and not the one I want.

What’s worst is
you’re not dead
Or in a desolate war zone
Or being a good Samaritan
in a third world country;
You live right down the street.
You chose to be a hole
rather than to be
with me.

I might as well save electricity
And just unplug the “no”
of my vacancy sign.

Because there will always be one.

The Albatross
Lone de-odorizer of the toilet
Its smooth contour covered in a clear blanket
Wrapped around with cheap plastic,
Adorned with cheap silk, the semi-lucent plastic
Like unwrapping a yema
It smells very sweet. Very, very.

You seldom notice this white bird
In your long hours of comforting, brooding
Hungering for attention beneath the swollen toilet
Asking for unwanted pleasures
The toilet asks "why must I feed?”
The Albatross mums in its silent reprieve.

Still you didn’t notice the wounding
Of your smooth oily toilet
In long comforting hours of sleep;
No, only excretion is wanted here.

The albatross takes away the scourge
The scourge beneath your noses
And still you didn’t notice
The glory in its inexistence

(Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal / June 28, 2008)

Avec mes premiers droits d’auteur je m’achèterai une vieille maison à retaper
Longeant une petite route déserte au milieu d’un champ immense
Je ne sais pas qui retapera ma maison
Je ne mentirai plus oh non jamais plus
Mais j’aimerais que l’ivresse me vienne plus vite
Comme ce mur blanc salement tacheté de jaune
Je voudrais tout couvrir, effacer toutes les traces
Ne plus penser à toi
Mais te dire à quel point tu m’as troué le cœur
Te tordre le cou devant un parterre de gens débiles
Oui
Je ne veux pas penser à la mort de mes parents
Encore moins à leur folie
Même si je sais, je sens qu’elle approche
Je me vois bien crever toute seule comme une vieille conne frigide entourée d’une centaine de cadavres de lapins dans cette vieille maison que j’aurais achetée avec mes droits d’auteur
Les gens je les déteste, ils ne se rendent pas compte du mal qu’ils peuvent faire
Ne se rendent jamais compte de rien
Non
De rien du tout
Pourtant
Je sais que ces trous du cul ont mal eux aussi
Je sens d’ici leur souffrance
Sous leurs mensonges et leurs faux-semblant je sens leur douleur d’inexistence
Mais moi vous savez
Je ne sais pas pour vous
Mais moi
Je veux juste écrire
JUSTE ECRIRE
Que mes parents demeurent immortels
Et aussi un peu d’amour charnel
Juste
Une fois
De temps à autre.

                                                                           …/…

Avec mes premiers droits d’auteur je me suis achetée une vieille maison à retaper
Longeant une petite route déserte au milieu d’un champ immense
Mais comme mes parents sont morts et que je suis une vieille conne frigide qui n’aimera jamais un homme autre que son père
Personne n’a retapé ma maison
Vieille maison qui tombe à présent en ruine
Dans laquelle je m’effondre
Jour après jour
Minute
Après
Minute

They say you fell into the creek.

Well you did, but not by accident.

You fell from the willow,
Like the tears you so often shed of late.

Life was too much
So you breathed the water like it was air,
Gasping between unheard sobs.

Drop by drop by bucketful of current
Moved between the folds of your dress
And pulled you in deeper and deeper.

The wreaths of flowers entangled around
Your wrists, your hair, your neck;
Beautiful nooses,
Symbolic of despair and misdirection.

Your life left you
Like a hey nonny, nonny
As innocence fled from Denmark
To the safety of inexistence.

How she wanted to pull you free,
But didn't.

This was your final escape.
You deserved it.

And now you lie
In a grave dug by comic relief
And filled with regret.

An unmarked grave
For an unmarked soul
Tainted by nothing,
But the wet mark of suicide.

The smell of whiskey makes my teeth hurt and today I woke up gasping for breath
Missing you kind of feels like rubbing alcohol on every paper cut from the scraps left behind
Some days it is a hollow swelling but the majority feel more sunburn, easy to forget but sore when touched

I used to dream about waking up with you as a normal routine, instead there is only quiet
I hold my hands together when I sleep to fill the space of a bed too big
I find pieces everywhere, your hair on my pillow, your cologne on my sweater, your sock, just one, tucked into a drawer I didn't know existed

I don't think about you often but when I do it becomes a sinking
A hole jammed into the side of a ship that had just learned how to stay afloat
There is never enough time for me to save myself from drifting off and I give up

It is back to you, and the guilt washing on your face when you said this feels weird, lips building lies like the fixing of shelter after a storm
When another someone tells me how soft my skin is, I want to light it on fire to burn off your fingerprints,
To forget that you said the same so often

I want to call you and ask why you haven't tried to reach me
I want to remind you that we live in the same city, big, enough distance apart to ignore
I want to pull your hands out of my hair and your breath off of my neck but I'm aware of the inexistence of both

I'm aware that now you have become nothing more than a figment of my imagination
Gone from reality but still alive in memory I do not try to erase
I'm not waiting for your return, I know you wont but I am waiting for the day my tastebuds don't crave you
It will happen, sooner or later but
for  now I still do

Tell me about the easter where
the egg hunted the bunny.

And tell me, just me, about the morning glory
when feeling dew on grass,
air in fluffy carpets.

Tell about running blindfolded
towards something that never
shows it self.

And tell me, only me, about when you flew to Cali
and found a filled bed.

Tell me about the drop
that weighed more.

Show me how to tie my shoelaces,
my shoes never untying.

Show me how to stand up as if
my own hair is the crown I wear.

Show me the short cuts and the easys.
Show me how easily the trophies break,

And show me how to stitch up a wound
I’ll soon be stitching up my own.

Tell me about the vespa that got you places,
like Aladdin’s carpet got him.

Tell me about the power of the seas,
and show me your favourite hat.

Show me how to reck
and show me how to build.

Tell me about the flower that never blooms,
just like a night in winter.

If you do, remember to show me the flower that always blooms,
with the spirit of the olympic fire.

Please tell me.

The maze of a life turns in
unexpected places.

I am indebted
to this life,
for giving me
the meaning
to the
whole context
despite
the meaninglessness
of it.

For its inexistence,
I am just
going to be
another stardust
in a vast, darkly sky
above the raging sea
in every cold, empty night.

problem:* for the longest time, i was in the mindset where *i did not want to die, i just simply did not want to exist.

experiment: this summer, i did just that. i severed ties with most of my friends, cut off communication, and burned down a lot of bridges.

outcome: i lost a lot of friendships but i found parts of myself.

summary: i had two months of inexistence and it sparked with me a desire to live again, a fire within me that had been missing for quite some time now. it taught me how to be okay by myself, but it also taught me that it’s okay to allow good friends to help you better yourself.

error analysis: it’s not okay if you purposely burn bridges down and end friendships on bad notes. they’ll haunt you later. so leave friendships on a good note. if they’re a real friend, you won’t be leaving them; you’ll simply be putting a pause on the friendship. it’s okay to take time for yourself, and it’s also okay if friends want some time for themselves. you should not ever apologize for wanting time for yourself, nor should others.

solution: if you wish to inexist, then isolate yourself for a while. make yourself comfortable being alone. once you are able to be content in isolation, you will naturally want to exist more, both inside and outside of isolation. *allow yourself to let people into your world again.

i see the world through welded steel bars that fence around my body, masking armor, but realistically locking my free spirit inside the walls of flesh that make up my being
i walk around, bewildered to see other miraculous women of all ages, races, and orientations trapped behind the same impenetrable incarceration, trudging along sidewalks, tendons diminishing in their knees as the metal jail cells they live in is a weight incapable of being lifted with ease
i clang on the bars with a metal can, i am soothed by the sound of my own imprisonment, i am lulled to sleep by vibrations of the vague oppression encrusted into the cell of my cells
i have not thought to cry, i have not thought to fight, for i have no idea where tears could possibly find their way down from, their inexistence is almost certain to me
i see the world through welded steel bars, that close in tighter with every aortic pulse, with every respiratory heave
you may be thinking at least you can still see, which is true, yes, i am so glad to be able to see
i only wish, i could see more

Seize the day, because it might be your last,
Leave the problems, drama, and fights in the past.
You can cry later, but now you should laugh,
You never know when you’ll see your life in a flash.

And when your whole life flashes before your eyes,
That same time and moment that you realize,
That your days have demised and you’re about to die,
Please don’t act surprised, and please don’t ask why.

People don’t realize that we’re on borrowed time,
Living there lives like tomorrow never dies.
Believing that their lives, are actually their lives,
And in there lies, what appears a clever lie.
But if our lives, were actually our lives,
Wouldn’t we be able to choose when it was our time.
Instead your destiny is undefined,
And you’re destined to be unalive.

Eternity is the enemy of mortality,
So internally we wish for immortality.
But even immortality is reached from immorality,
Unless you happen to become a nature’s casualty,
Only if it happens naturally,
Can your passage be in existence, your mortal inexistence,
But you’ll exist in the Heavens you enlist in.


Then, and only then, can you live life at ease,
The days you no longer will have to seize,
On the set day you leave,
Before death is seen,
The concept of “days” you leave.
Does this mean that after life
Time will lose meaning?
Will life after death leave us with nothing to believe in?
Will we still try to seize the day
When we become immortal beings?

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Everybody knows
That this isn't true
But everybody doesn't know
That my love for you
Had a maximum of two
Consists of me and you
Nothing red
Nothing blue
Our love is like an airplane
It flew smooth
But our love is inexistence
So it just flew
Flew by you

I unwrap myself from the red linen shroud

And head towards the wavering closet.

Today the skeleton seems less proud,

Stupefied, only relatively.

Sometimes I take it out and waltz with it,

It seems the right thing to do.

Sometimes I carry it on my friendly shoulders,

Hoping its rage would undo.

Then there are times when I shun it away

To acknowledge its inexistence.

And veiling myself with the shroud, I stay

Till I am disrupted by the rattling of bones

Walking back towards my bed,

I lie down, crying still

With the skeleton at my elbow,

It’s a story of me I want to ****.

The day you accepted fate,
That day you choose to let go.
The same day u loose it all.
Dear, that day you get wounded.

The blood is still bleeding.
You never had the nutrients for clotting, and so you keep loosing value.
You keep depreciating from life to inexistence.

Time heals all wound you think.
But time can never heal this one wound.
You've been hurt once, that gives the needed access.            
Though the wound is now scar to you.

Yes scars to you after a while,
But to your inner man, it's as fresh as today.
And you think you can move on with the pain,
Because you concluded there is no remedy.

Yes you have substituted fate for your passion.
You have replaced your ever available oil with toil.
Your vessel you have shattered because time has vexed you.
You keep going about with the scars of your sacrificed passion.

I am but a worthless ****.
An idiot.
Stupid.
Worthy of inexistence.

I do nothing but scare.
Hate.
Break.
Wreck.

I pity myself for being like this.
Helpless ****.
Empty egoist.
Hard as ****.

I know I will live in hell.
There is no heaven for me.
I am cursed
And ****** for eternity.

Night, beautiful night
But why beautiful, I asked
You are just void,
Dark, as if hiding in a shadow,
Signify inexistence
Then what makes you beautiful.

Light, the night murmured
faint dispersed light running through me,
Making me visible enough to be visualized

If if were not for that something I have always been against,
I would have never glown in the dark,
Lost forever in existence.

Nothing is a thoughtful word
that we take for granted.

Nothing is everything it’s not.

It is not a word.
Yet we use one to describe it.

It is not a sound.
Yet we say that we hear it.

It is not a place.
Yet we hate when we’re nowhere.

It is not a feeling
Yet we try desperately to feel it.

It is not a person.
Yet there are so many nobodies.

It exists as something it simply isn’t.
Yet I fear it is God and Truth –
Everything.

So why then, in its infinite existing inexistence,
this void that is being without being,
do I exist?

Tonight was
The first crescent moon in a while
And the last time your lips
Will touch mine
See I have never been one
To believe in religion
Or anything for that matter
But loving you almost makes me have to
Because how else could something feel so **** right

Tonight I learned
That attraction can not be reversed
That although
Six months have gone by
Since our skin last met
We still have magnets in our bones
Opposite particles that reach for eachother with open arms
I can not explain it
Physics is just complicated like that
I am just complicated like that
I did not mean for this to happen tonight
Retracing the maps of your body
Was not in my plans
Was not my intention
I simply wanted
Closure
But what I got tonight
Was so much more
Than that

Before tonight
I had spent months placing my rage over hot water
Letting it boil inside of me
I had spent months
Learning to hate
Knowing that the only alternative
Was to love
I had spent months
Writing solely envy and nostalgia
Hoping that a pen and some words
Were enough for you to want to let me back in

I have learned
How to ball point my feelings into letters
But not how to embrace them

See I wanted to hate you
Wanted to scoff
Roll eyes
At the thought of you

Awaiting the day
When your prescence
Would be synonymous with inexistence

But it never happened
I've learned that feelings
Can not be erased
Only covered
Shoved into corners of your mind
And attempted to be replaced
But you simply cannot
Just change something into nothing
And to me you will never be nothing

You are a flame I set inside myself
Long ago
That will never cease
Will never burn out
The fire tonight
Was only a reminder
That some things
Will never die

So I'll leave
For the other side of the country
5,000 miles away
With less weight on my usually heavy heart
Knowing that I left part of it
With you

You can have it
It is yours to keep
It always has been
And it always will be
You always will be
My first
Love.

My words are vocalizations of what is
cognitive reverberation upon my thoughts.
They are vapours of what was unintelligible
upon the surface, but sank to deeper reflections.

When they spilt on the white from inexistence
to my voice in simplistic vocalization of verse.
Then what collected in rendition collected forth.

Listen to my voice, now you are reading these
last vocal mentions not in yours but the perceiving
of what my voice resonates between. From thought
to paper welcome to my words in my echo of my voice.

The morning sunrise,
A bright new day.
My existence, once again real.

As I rise to my feet;
grasping for energy.
No time to weep.

The shadows of night,
Still weighs upon me.
My patterns of thought,
Erratic and free.
I try to move on,
And even harder to forget.

The emptiness of slumber,
Now overflowing with reality.
The quiet bliss of inexistence,
Is once again behind me.
The harmony of night,
fades away with the dwindling moonlight.

In the depths of my mind,
the painful reminders prevail.
While my eyes remain ever dry,
Emotionless,
I shake and quiver.
As my tears of sorrow
Slowly stream down from within.
A feeling of anguish,
Engulfing a broken heart.

A single moment of weakness,
Too scared to hold on.
Too painful to let go.
My wish to vanish in darkness,
A realm to dwell in impassively.

Through darkness,
As in light.
My shadowed thoughts
Of a life once loved,
They follow me.
Never to be forgotten!
Never to be re lived!

My life is So full of
Half starts, incompletion,
Should've, could've, would've,

My regrets ride On my back
Like I'm the One they've saddled.

I have mastered
The very elegant
Art of inexistence.

I've become so
Totally lost In being afraid
Of my life That I've forgotten
To even live.

This isn't living.

Don't hate anyone.

Does that include myself?
Scratch that. Currently lacking a self.

I'll stumble into faith. Or life.
Or faith in life.

No more. Never. Can't live like this.
Scratch that. Not really living.

Caffeine may keep me awake, but
What can coffee do for an empty soul?

The answer is nothing.

I can mend an empty soul. My empty soul.
Even as I dream of paradise while stuck on the ground.

Time to live.
Time to wake up.

There can't be any incompletes this time.

in the moment, it's like a motel bedroom with no furnishings, a blanketed inexistence, like backroom deals,
hands shake, exchanges made,
players in a game that you'd think no one ever played.

in that moment, it was a garage with trash filled floors, crusted couches, a blanket and maybe a thrill,
memories fade, so they say,
but who's to blame when some memories decide to stay?

I feel like these feelings will never go away and I’ll never get over you
It seems I tried everything to avoid this situation but somehow knew I would end up hurt and alone here
I guess I’m not in your thoughts anymore, you stop flirting with me
I guess it’s better this way
Because maybe now I can get some sleep at night
You’re always on my mind but I’ll never speak of it again
I can’t get your touch, your scent, your voice off my mind
It’s in my head
So here you come standing so close to me, smiling up in my face and staring intensely into my eyes
You haven’t seen me in a while, maybe my inexistence has gotten to you
Your words, joyfulness, and excitement to see me I can’t take
This can’t be how we are
Unspoken desire and tensions filled with meaningless words
It’s like every time I see you, I fall for you all over again after I spent weeks getting over you
And I’m queasy and sick to my stomach all over again
I keep replaying the day in my head when we really connected and you said “you’re awesome and amazing”
But those days are gone and everything seems so dark now
We stop telling each other how awesome we are, it’s like we got lost in space somewhere and drifted apart
But I like how when you’re having a bad day and your face turns red and hair is messed up and makeup not on
Or how you’re not a morning person and always the last one to wake up in the morning
Your morning face is adorable
I used to consider you my favorite person
I like to get back to that place
I can’t believe you like my favorite singer
I don’t like that you get so easily upset and cry in front of everyone
But when you do, I just want to hold you
But I will never let my feelings out again
So do what you like, though I will try to be by your side
Though I must move on and be on my way unless I’ll be stuck here forever going nowhere
You have a beautiful soul
I love your smile and morning face
For me, letting go of these feelings isn't easy
But I need to get back to a calmer state of mind and sleeping peacefully
I’m still having problems with sleep

That **** summer, I spent two weeks getting lost in her
But I feel stronger now, I can move on without her
So I will have no fear we are both better than ever and still stand so close careful not to touch or let out any of those emotions

In an early morning dream I was sat next to a woman on a train whom I fell in love with.

Her captivating smile and red hair are but a few figments of that dream that yet linger in my memory.

Entranced by a conversation I cannot recall, and infatuated with a woman I cannot picture, I eagerly fall asleep at night, moronically hoping she'll come again.

What I do remember of our dreamly encounter I cherish with great pleasure. I cannot help but feel paradoxically content yet bothered by the realization my most recently cherished conversation is one I have, in fact, never had.

In an early morning dream she came, and for the briefest of moments filled my world with warmth and endless curiosity. And just like the ether from which she came, she withered into inexistence upon my awakening.

will I know when I am near,
near the brink of inexistence,
in this human form,
when I sleep a final time ?
will I know the eternal existence,
when this human form will be lost?
the cosmic stitching that holds,
my entity to this form,
will wither and loosen,
these tethers that exist,
will all be gone.
will I know when I am near?
will I know my eternal infinite form?

These back country roads highlight the presence of nothingness.
Pushing through murky thoughts of
Inexistence, burning the smoke of loneliness and impotence.
Alone with myself.

I think the hardest pill to swallow
Is the realization
Of the inexistence
Of God himself.....
But ohhhhh if He reigned
Lord... take me away....