explicit timing

April 25, 2011 § Leave a comment

just as i am stretching to keep a straight trunk, for i have eaten too much ice and sipped too much milk, i am at awe with the perfection of movements. the headset is conspiring with the media player. they must have paused for the past half hour, for all i know, then played the song just as i picked it up – ready to lay down the new square notes i’ve gathered.

and white lights? i don’t think so.

but they don’t listen to my pleas, nor to my requests. ha, what more, right? completion is hard to achieve in this case. i’m getting old, and i haven’t gotten anywhere yet. not even anywhere near anywhere. here i am, stuck in the same place i have been born. like i got out of that womb just to stay in the middle of the two legs. i’ve tried, but i won’t tire yet. i’ve still to keep trying while i plan for the movements to dock them behind those boons. this could be the end of everything.

but what do i know?

there we sat, around the breakfast table. me, casually dropping bombs of some gig i want to partake this coming weekend. ignored, i was. i changed tactics, as if on monologue, i cried faux wails tinged with morose laughter. morbid, if you ask me. but you don’t. i don’t mind. there we sat. me, continuing whatever it is that drove me to a point of voluntary humiliation. barely, that was my family, the audience, nobody else. after ignoring me for the expanse of two quarters of my dessert bowl, he uttered a denial of my wishes. oh, and have i mentioned her endless protests? those kind of fell on the background. days ago, i tried telling her, and i’ve heard her side, unfortunately. it’s easier to be apart. we might as well be strangers.

have i mentioned this being hard?

for the next couple of minutes, i tried to defend what better judgment lies in my utter hopes. i was almost winning. for i saw them both ponder upon the empty space consisting of emptied pans and plates. rattling my spoon against my bowl, i slurped and talked. then, i choked. he grabbed that opportunity to growl. behold, completeness! not of anything i might want to be connected with myself, but the completeness of that two-letter curse. NO. the simplicity can kill me faster than that piece of apple stuck on my throat.

i don’t know you, and i don’t want to.

i kept my hair down, gladly. covering half of my face as i forced the remainder of soupy dessert. sloppy, my eyes felt. then the younger he started blabbering what nonsense he can contribute to my already burdened countenance. i took fast gurgling and swallowing to keep those tears from falling. ‘don’t saway the old people’, the younger he said amidst the instructions falling behind me. the ‘older people’ have left the table. mark this day, i murmured. ‘what?’ mark this day, out loud. i carried my bowl to the sink, stopping by the calendar to confirm the date. 25 APR 2011. i have gained something out of this. humiliation, yes, but only a little. i have gained a new dream. and that dream, i hope, will drown you on your negativity.

water. deep, going deeper. tankfuls of survival. wilderness. colors. stretches of beauty. tight skin. water. taste. bubbles. flip, yeah. FUN.

and i vow to do this before you.

meet me in the morning when you wake up.

the light touch of the feather falling dream, just right in time to tickle the nose of those desiring to sneeze.

***disclaimer: italicized lines are lyrics from the album Hopes and Fears of Keane. take time to LISTEN to it sometime. no regrets***

i tried to stay awake and remember my name.

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43

March 15, 2011 § 5 Comments

telepathic rendezvous.

<silent sighic smile>

we never had that. i fancied. but delusion’s unheard of when my ears bleed from the countless injections of live-your-life-according-to-the-truth-cloudy-liquid – a drug i prefer to be un-high of, when i’m sober.

in my carelessness while eyeing the computer screen, i grazed my knee from the sharp corner of the keyboard drawer. my eyes went past the flat surface and saw the pictures. i blamed the owner of those faces. i’m not going anywhere.

the single owner. i didn’t get to anywhere, didn’t make it close.

i’m moving on.

The Third by ~Zinfer on deviantart

you're not mine to kill.

fancy that.

*the title’s both a dedication [for three] and beta version for [</3]*

this didn’t occur to me until later tonight.

March 9, 2011 § Leave a comment

i’m not the only one with superpowers.

warning sign

March 6, 2011 § Leave a comment

the tasteless flavor of the body, abdomen and all, shingles into the roof of the mouth. give me peace.

when suddenly, i didn’t want to listen to music anymore. not even my beloved’s. not when the melody is dissected into notes of realization. tidbits of truth and memories, going tick-tock tick-tock here to haunt me.

somewhere, sometime, a trigger was pulled. no, that’s a lie. i know exactly where though i can’t checkmark the correct date, but i know exactly where and about when. it was when i was still a little kid. but i know, little as i was. i know what it was i was asked to do. i don’t remember if i understood. i can’t. i don’t.

for even now, this is too much.

maybe i tried to forget. and maybe i even did. for i haven’t scratched on this until tonight. tomorrow, on our ethics debate, things can be further explained. and i can keep my eyes opened for tomorrows. can’t i go climb back to before that?

but i’m not yet ready to rake this raw.

i will, however, shout on my loudest tones the warning sign. self, don’t explode into anything but tears.

what sense is there in crying now? and why is it that i still find myself weeping for that which happened so long ago? i’d very much rather be my pathetic self right now than be the legatee of this. i’d very much rather be lost. lost. please, let me be rather lost.

*a man becomes peace, neither yes or no*

you are my favorite letter already

February 22, 2011 § 2 Comments

well, i’ve been thinking, maybe this is love. ūüôā

asking for you, rad. i had wished before for somebody else. but of course, i understood it wasn’t meant to be. but this is different. i haven’t seen you for long, yet still, you haunt me. a disease which causes aching in my mouth when i swallow but i can’t help but eat more and more for the taste is¬†impassable. must.

must be love. lalalalove.

L.ove

pathetically inclined

February 12, 2011 § Leave a comment

i broke off my engagement. not because of anything but.

everything could be worse. or better.

feeling tired of pretense under this love for a mistress that doesn’t even claim me, or at the very least, call me by my name. no, a mistress who passes by me under that bridge i could have easily jumped off. a mistress who gracefully soars wingless while i, on my greatest endeavors, could only own a plane ride. in memory, a mistress who spits rain i dearly hope to catch.

so you see, that mistress is, if not love, passion. passion that burns, not for me. but i, being myself, still reach out to feel that warm exhaust of smoke and soot. i spend countless hours watching that mistress, unblinking if i can. my eyes are rebelling against me.

and my heart, my heart is turning away. turning away yet coming up still with a standstill face-to-face. you don’t know what i see there. or right now, since i can’t see clearly, you don’t know what i perceive there, what i get. and i don’t know either. i’m still trying to figure it out in the simplest way available, waiting. or call it procrastinating.

that was a year ago. the distance ventured – pushed and pulled. now, unfilled. the space grows along, no more intimacy between me and my heart except for this longing for the mistress that my heart disdains. for this heart, no matter my chest bone, ribs and flesh, still seeks for that normality.

so as to give a leap into her steady, responsible rhythm, the normality factor chemical x was produced. i can not lie, but this heart deceived itself by itself. with all my chest bone, ribs and flesh, this heart hid and amused herself with the truth that can only be true to her. dear heart.

i admit i had fun with the now and then bearings of the normality factor chemical x. okay, maybe i had too much fun most of the time that i supplied a long grocery list, checkmarks all over. but i don’t pay. though i have resources, i am too lazy to convert it into money. this heart became discontented and yearned for more. i do not like the fact that it’s me who suffers when she attempts fragile-contained anger. it’s my own store, too. so i tossed chem x, pretended more accurately. i can not lie, but this heart deceived itself by itself, with me.

after listening to the buzz of the noonday sun, i figured i couldn’t take it no longer. i threw back my head and stared into the blazing ball. if i could rip off my flesh, ribs and chest bone, i’d have done so already under all that light, while the light was with me. but i wasn’t brave enough. i wasn’t brave enough to let my heart go.

that’s when i ran for shade. and i decided, no more invented chemical x, beloved, no more.

along with my fianc√©e went the mistress. but i can’t have a mistress, i am a hugger of my sexuality. mistresses are for men, in-understandable men. along with my fianc√©e went the blank that once, always lingered dancing. i can still see, though blurry, the motion swaying of its hips. and i can perfectly hear the melody that made, and still kind of makes me, stomp my feet. but it’s fading. thank heavens it’s fading.

and her skirt was made of the hill’s silhouette

January 20, 2011 § Leave a comment

i saw this featured in a user's faves list. i clicked it then left after appreciation. after a while, i hunted it down, and found it in 50++ page. wasn't it tiring! but worth it. you, nightmare. such an inspiration.

i’m not gifted with the visual arts. not naturally – i dare hope. for if that’s the case, there surely is room for nurture.

scanning through decade-old artworks of some pigmented artists, i find myself severely fascinated. right now, my great desire is to be a member of the dark club. there, they illustrate the images of the unseen splendor, the glorious sceneries of the night left to the other kind. the perfect moments that the normal, like most of us, are too afraid to believe or to witness. someday, i’ll capture those, too.

for i have, about thrice in my nightlife, partook in the¬†grandeur. the upstairs bedroom has a passageway to the¬†squeaky¬†roof – the hole where the aircon once resided. one unfortunate night, my ma and i had an argument which led me to walk out. out of that hole. she didn’t know, and i made pretty sure she didn’t. putting down careful steps, i went out head first, with a pillow ahead of me to catch my stupidity in silence. i’ve lain there looking at the stars, attempting to count them. then i told the moon my troubles. it was gloriously full that night, too. when i thought i was gone too long from my ma’s attention, i said my goodbyes and promises of comeback. my second escape proved to be more difficult than the first. this time, i scratched my knee. when my classmates asked about the next day, i told them i got it from trying to break into somebody’s window but they didn’t believe me. i was lying with what i told them, of course. because i didn’t try to break in; i was, in fact, breaking out. once on the roof, the trick was to lie still, so that the booming chatterers from below can’t notice the imbecile taking a night nap on the roof. but lying still has its cons. that second night, the mosquitoes found me. after staring into the endless sky, i was mesmerized into sleep. the sting from about a thousand mosquitoes brought me back to wakefulness. i had to go back in. on my last trip, i brought my journal with me.

fear’s got hold of me right now. the roof is rusty and i couldn’t trust it for holding my weight a few more nights. and the rains keep coming in buckets these days and nights. i couldn’t risk slipping into my neighbor’s backyard while they’re having their evening chats. so, i’m postponing my talks with the parish lantern until i find another haven. i have to find another haven for the development of my visual arts skill if i want to be a member of the dark club!

the one who inspired me into this already deactivated his account in deviantart. a true deviant. even in a society of deviants, he deviates. i’ll raise my glass, and i’ll put down my medium on working.

mr. cpu is keeping in tune with me here. i can hear him like whistling a kind of music the indian delivers to the moon before their sacred rituals. bonfire!

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