Sa oras na mahanap ko ang perpekto kong sarili

Sa oras na mahanap ko ang perpekto kong sarili

Sa oras na mahanap ko ang perpekto kong sarili,
sasabihan kita.

I-chachat kita. I-tetext kita. I-popost ko pa.
Sa lahat ng social media na meron ako
Matatagpuan mo siya,

Ang perpekto kong sarili ay naghihintay
Nagbabadya sa paglipad at pag-angat
mula sa lusak na pinanggalingan niya.

Sa oras na mahanap ko ang perpekto kong sarili,
hindi ako mag-aatubiling itago siya.

Hindi siya magmumukmok sa sulok kung
saan ko siya madalas iwan, kung
saan ko siya madalas hinahayaan
nagkukubling mag-isa sa dilim,
nalulunod sa mga lihim,

Nagbabasa ng mga utak na magaling
Magpanggap na wari’y totoo siyang
Naghihintay at humihinga kung saan siya naroroon.

Alam kong inaabangan mo siya dahil
Alam kong pagod ka na, bagot na bagot ka na kaya;
Alam kong ayaw mo na sa aki’t
Siya ang nakikita mong pag-asa kaya;

Sa oras na mahanap ko ang perpekto kong sarili,
sasabihan kita.

Ipagsisigawan ko pang nangyari ang imposibleng
matagal mo nang ninanais makita.
Malalaman nang buong mundo pwede palang
mapunan ang lahat ng aking pagkukulang
Hindi na mauulit ang kahapong araw-araw na lang
na ginawa ng Diyos ay namamalas mo; malas mo
dahil malas ko; tarantado akong
nagpupumilit bumangon; nagpupumilit lumaban

At sa awa ng Diyos, Kanya namang hinahayaan;
hindi pinababayaan kahit hindi na maintindihan;
kahit dahan-dahan, hindi nawawalan;
hindi nawawala sa kawalan

ng pag-asang maging buo kaya

Sa oras na mahanap ko ang perpekto kong sarili,
sasabihan kita.
Hindi ka mauubusan ng imbitasyon.
Una ka sa listahan. Ang panauhing pandangal;
Una ka sa upuan. Mag-isa ka sa isang buong hanay;
matiyaga kang magmatiyag ng kagila-gilalas na
pagpapamalas ng perpektong sarili ko.

Dito sa entablado. Dito sa kwadrado. Makikita mo ako.
Papasok, lalakad at rarampa tulad ng tipo mong modelo.

Sa oras na mahanap ko ang perpekto kong sarili,
sasabihan kita. Mag-abang ka, tambangan mo siya.

Gaya ng lagi mong ginagawa, wasakin mo tapos
Panoorin mong buuin ko siya ulit.
Gaya noong nakaraang linggo.
Abangan mo siyang ulit maging perpekto.
Maging buo; mapapagod at magpapahinga.
Matutulog at magpapaganda,
Maliligo at poporma.
Papasok, lalakad at rarampa tulad ng tipo mong modelo.
Tulad nung inaasam mong perpektong sarili ko.

Paulit-ulit hanggang sa matira ang namumugtong sugat,
mga nagnanaknak na hinaing na kailanman
hindi mapupunan ang mga pagkukulang
na kahit anong dahilang maisipan
ng walang kwentang tulad kong nagtatago
ng perpektong sarili ko sa sulok

Ng aking imahinasyon, ng aking takot
dahil kahit kailan hindi niya mabibigyang galak
ang tao; hindi niya mapapasaya ang tulad mo.

Sa oras na mahanap ko ang perpekto kong sarili,
sasabihan kita.

I-chachat kita. I-tetext kita. I-popost ko pa.
Sa lahat ng social media na meron ako
Matatagpuan mo siya,

Ang perpekto kong sarili ay naghihintay
Nagbabadya sa paglipad at pag-angat
mula sa lusak na pinanggalingan niya.
Panoorin mo lang siyang maglahong parang bula.
Dahil kahit kailan hindi siya magpapakita.

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There is no such thing as a safe place

There is no such thing as a safe place

There is no such thing as a safe place
Under the screaming whispers of the rain
Cold daylight sets under my lids
The murmurs of the dead
They come crashing
Begging to be resurrected
Like ashes, like lego blocks
Begging to be picked up
Like shards of glass
Waiting
I dreamed I was safe
Under those arms that said love
That begged patience
Making me thirsty in broad daylight
The sky was clear and blue
But the sun basked in flames.
What a pretty picture
Like a beautiful day
A warm kiss of coffee in the morning
Waking up still
With an open hand
For another cup of caffeine
Wake me up and up still
Here to be awakened
To a safe place which was not
Even close to a bed of sheets
Cool and clean against the heat
But the rain echoes in my ears
Whispering loud and clear why
Are you still here?

Ode to a ghost

Ode to a ghost

You know I cannot help but think about you
But I do not think highly of you
For some reason you never cease to end up
in my head like my brain is some sort of dump
The stench of wanted and unwanted things

Linger altogether. I smell them, breathe them.
I remember waiting and walking to and fro along
that long alley of lights and machines and coffee
Abundant with strangers walking and pacing like I do
I wondered a little how come they don’t seem
to look like me. And low, I beheld you from afar.

I remember your challenged length and reach.
Nearly leveled were our eyes which didn’t make
watching you so difficult not even meeting your lips
and your eyes; which in fact, were dreamy
at the time; at that very little time

That we, my dear, had
Nights. We had a few weeks of only nights
Spent walking through different streets lit
Only by moon and lampposts and trains.
I remember thinking about you as if it ran on a clock.
A clock with countless arms that seemed to run
around both clock and counterclockwise
And I remember the need to swim in the words
we uttered on those nights because I was a fragile
heart, you said. You were a stopwatch taking your
pace and space and your mind in your own head.

I was confused because you held me like you
Wanted me to be a part of you and yet you shun me
and my advances to the dust. “Take our time,”
You said. A hundred days slowly passed which was mine.
Because you told me to take them anyway. I took
My time like I should and as it was mine like
My heart was and still is too, I took all of them with me.
And it’s funny how after another hundred more days
You asked me me to welcome you back in a place
I no longer live in or even visit. Funny, right? Funny, yes.

You know I cannot help but think about you
But I do not think highly of you
For some reason you never cease to end up
in my head
Like my brain is some sort of dump
The stench of wanted and unwanted things

Linger altogether. I smell them, breathe them.
I remember waiting and walking to and fro along
that long alley of lights and machines and coffee
Abundant with strangers walking and pacing like I do
I wondered a little how come they don’t seem
to look like me. And low, I beheld you from afar.

I remember your challenged length and reach.
Nearly leveled were our eyes which didn’t make
watching you so difficult not even meeting your lips
and your eyes; which in fact, are now just a mere
stench of the past. A neglected scent of a ghost.

These are my ideas

These are my ideas

I have a new idea. I think I could even fall in love with it, the way I did with you. The way I would hope for things that you only disappoint me with. Like beer, I chug and swallow but never appreciate the taste. The way my makeup wears down through the day. You can hardly even see any left. The way I thought I’d be fought for, cared for, only to be let down.

Here’s an idea. I’m going out tonight. Somewhere so far I’d regret being there in the first place. By the time I got there, I would eat regret for dinner and watch every single busy person, loved person, occupied person, too productive person pass me by the same way the world revolves around the sun. Like regret and anger mashed into one disgusting cannon ball that smashed my heart because it believed I could be the sun for awhile.

Here’s another idea. I am selfish. I own my life like I own my pillows, my comfort, my satisfaction. And if you dare sleep with them I will haunt you in your dreams and make you wish you did not get them. Like kissing my lips in lit cigars or shot glasses, inhaling my breath without any permission even when I gave them freely… But I will take it all back because I still wasn’t the sun. So that is me making you rue the very day you didn’t revolve around me right on schedule.

Here’s another idea. Dancing with someone else would be nice. Like bowing down to a new master following his command when really I’m the commander, I’m the boss because I’m the little girl playing with not so little toys. And we’re in a party, alone… Just us under the stars in a graveyard of lost loves and regrets. Wishing I wouldn’t have to think about new ideas because you were my favorite idea, like a playmate. Like a partner in a crime I’d forever commit.

I just. I suppose you weren’t the best.

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.

Summer in my eyes

Summer in my eyes

I have not cried in a long while. Countless reasons came by and I can hardly understand why my tear ducks hold back. Has the dam grew dry? My heart yearns to shower upon the external the mourning it holds, the grief.

How can this life be cruel and not let me cry? I’m only human. And I have always known myself to be emotional ergo my heart easily runs with pain and it storms right through my eyes. Two decades of existence and twenty summers of ever wet tear ducks suddenly run dry.

Have I told you that this does not necessarily mean that I feel strong? Do you know that I don’t feel strong? Do you understand how vulnerable I feel? How could I run out of tears to cry?

I have been cruel to myself and to the world. And the most human thing that I could do is the one thing that is brought away from me. To mourn.

I ask a simple question. I ask one thing. Let me cry for the reasons that I have now. I don’t know how else I could let the pain out. I can’t bear to keep feeling the pain. I can’t bear to release the pain in ways I don’t quite understand. In ways I would wound myself more, in ways I would destroy myself.

Fate be less cruel to me, please. Wash the drought off my tear ducks and let me cry again. Let me be the kind of human that I’ve always been… That if I cannot bring what was, let me have that one part of what used to be.

Thus we learn

Thus we learn

I learned to love myself, you said.
That with you, I learned I could be new.

Down to hell the stories went.
Down with the fire all possibilities.

Let us take it really slow, you said.
I wish I made you up inside my head.

That I told you what you are.
That I showed you what you could be.

Apart from the future that I could see.
Apart from the picture of you and me.

I somehow chained you to me, you said.
Perhaps those kisses were not dead.

Perhaps the memories have never fled.
But the now must come to an end.

Like the way I jumped off the train.
That moment hurt you, you said.

Three months would not need be long.
That is if I take arms and I be strong.

No one’s bound stay, at least not today.
At least you learned to love yourself.

Not many learn that lesson this way.
But you might learn to love me back, one day.