Last time I checked.

Last time I checked.

The system swallowed me whole the way the sunrise did. It rises over and I cannot keep the light off me. I’m covered in and out that even if I try to keep my mouth shut, your eyes won’t cease to see, that I am screaming.

“Sorry,” you said. Like a routine. Like a greeting fresh from the morning brew. I can smell it. It sends a vivid image of sincerity and a warm embrace like compassion. Like love. And I’m home.

Last time I checked, I loved you like the sunlight. Clear as the day I said I’m going to jump because you said you wanted to fly. Assuming that you would fly, I had the confidence to say I really will jump and come up to the sky. I don’t even need to ask you to try and catch me or whatever because I didn’t care much about where the wind will take me. I just knew I would be safe. I knew that I would be at home in the clouds with you because you said you wanted to fly. I knew you would.

You haven’t even taken off and I think I’m too far off from the cliff. Fucking fuck Mcfuck. Where have you been? Where were you all this time?

I wandered off alone on the horizon. I saw the horizon. I saw the storm. The thunder stung like what the fuck. I wasn’t even prepared for the blinding light, the deafening clap, the wounds, the scars. Last time I checked, I have had enough of that.

Last time I checked, I really loved you because I kept trying to keep my mouth shut. You kept your mouth shut because I told you so. You kept it shut even when I am screaming, hoping you would find me. I kept screaming so anybody could find me. I have lost my voice and I still kept screaming. All because the whole time I yelped for you, I was watching your back running like your running with someone but that someone wasn’t me. All this time, perhaps, you thought that was me.

So, where have you been? Because last time I checked you said you love me you said you’re afraid to lose me you said want to wait for me you said you said you said you said and I’m tired holding on to empty words you fucking said.

Last time I checked you said you would let me go. For once, I believed one thing from you. That this time, this time, for sure, I would be free. But I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to be free. Deep down, I was never ready. But I always have been free; it was my choice.

I thought there was some sort of handcuffs that bound me to you and I happily embraced it because I was with you. Then again, I have gone far off the cliff. You haven’t flown to catch me or save me because last time I checked, you said “It’s up to you.”

I have never felt this lost my entire life and I’m just waiting to reach the bottom rock.┬áThen again, I have gone far off the cliff.

You may think you are a dragon but you’re a lizard to me.

You may think you are a dragon but you’re a lizard to me.

Annoys and annoys me.
You’re presence is toxic.
The way you extend out your tongue
Exudes with fumes
And I fuel it until I become fire

Fire fuels me as I fuel the fire
I now am the fire.
Don’t crossover.
I will burn you.
And you will burn.
To the ground with grit;
To pieces. To ashes.
To particles of fuck
Like the fuck you are.

I like the sound of your caffeinated brain

I like the sound of your caffeinated brain

I like the sound of your caffeinated brain
I like the way the train
Of your thought sail through
Oceans

or horizons, if you will.
After all, you are a pilot,
you, flyer, you man with wings, you

The role of the engineer. The role of the technician.
But they all seem French to me.
Sounds amazing but you never understand.
Tempting even when you’re under a spell
sealed with a wondrous kiss.
Wake up, love and realize
You are not prepared for this, this, this

My love, this–
is how you speak when you had coffee, this–
is how you speak when you sing to me, this–
is how you speak when you lie to me, this–
is how you speak when you breathe and eat me, like–

The role of the engineer. The role of the technician.
But they all seem alien to me.
Sounds familiar but I always get lost
Amazing even you step on slippery slopes
sliding to a downward spiral.
Wake up, love and realize
You are not prepared for this, this, this

My love, this–
is how you tell me you love me, this–
is how you tell me I will be fine, this–
is how you tell me (fuck) we will be fine, this–
is how you tell me you promise, this–

I like the sound of your caffeinated brain
I like the way the train
Of your thought sail through
Oceans

or lies, if you will.
After all, you are a pilot,
you, lover(liar), you man with wings, you

Aircon buzzing

Aircon buzzing

And then it all went down to this. The stale fragrance of the rain. The nothingness of the moment. And me.

I, Vicentia, sit alone in an empty office. I had my lurk around from the familiar corners of the room that I don’t even care about. To the right-hand corner sits the door and from there to the wall in front of me, a wide desk. It functions as a table and a shelf basically anything we might bother to leave there every now and then. Over this spot, a wide shelf carrying books in coordinated in colors. Another separate shelf sits by the left-hand corner of the room. Behind me, as I sit here on the centerpoint of the room, more desks, more office chairs. They are as empty as the room.

The aircon disintegrates the quiet of the room. It sounds static and repetitive and boring. It is the kind of sound that makes you feel sad.

“It’s time,” said the other man whom I thought wasn’t in the room. As he said that this, one of my bosses stepped in and grabbed his mob of mugs on the reception desk to the right side of the room.

‘Oh, is it.’ I thought. I didn’t bother thinking about what’s next or what’s to come at this time. I didn’t notice much that the man in the room was singing. At this point, the singing went a little louder than the usual.

The buzzing aircon sound reemerged from the nowhere in my mind. Blocking the noise seemed too difficult now.

I don’t exactly know what comes next after this scene but I am pretty sure this is not going to end well. Who knows. ‘Only-who-knows’ knows.