verticals

Posted on | June 15, 2009 | No Comments

gentle night wind awoke me amidst the Dreaming.
dancing little clef notes in black tones on my head.
reverberating like the disturbing onomatopoeia of The Bells (the brazen ones).
screaming. crying. can someone please keep us safe and take us home?

and on the radio played a perfect song for my sorrow.

“This girl I know needs some shelter.
She don’t believe anyone can help her.
She’s doing so much harm, doing so much damage.
But you don’t want to get involved.
You tell her she can manage.
And you can’t change the way she feels.
But you could put your arms around her.”

…so i felt the familiar drops of agony.
but i should be happy. drag and force myself just to be happy.
stretch my lips and bleed to smile. damn it smile!
2 lives are suffering now - and that’s the difference from the pro-death past of the half blood prince.

still have someone

Posted on | June 9, 2009 | No Comments

lhorlan laurel: at ikaw ay maingat lagi…less stress, less thinking and be happy (khet pilitin mo lang)
lhorlan laurel: oki i love you and i miss you dear!

xaxixo

Posted on | May 18, 2009 | 4 Comments

life -

for me was a provocation; an enemy; and sometimes, a reason to self-murder. it was a nemesis that i’ve got to bravely resist with my every damn effing mortal days.

way way back -

i’ve just got a handful of reasons to live and an ocean-like expanse of reasons to drown.

now now -

as i am still rowing this strange odyssey called life - of living with the angry waves , the unpredictable tides and the dangerous sharks, i shall keep on sailing until i can kiss the sun.

because -

closer to the horizon, i see xaxixo…

something in the belly

Posted on | May 12, 2009 | No Comments

lights - on and off just like a party room full of drugs. and the people kept on dancing and jumping like noone’s around seeing them fly. well, noone really saw them fly. but i heard it was damn up high. high high high. everybody was high. so i said hi - they said awesome. and the junkies are going belly up and was ready to throw up the life and mess they swallowed and drunk up. too many tears. too many emo scenes. too many voodoo pins. too many sins. but the seed we will keep.

fingerless

Posted on | May 5, 2009 | No Comments

there was once a fingerless man -
pointing a fist.
not yet knowing that he was fingerless.
not yet knowing that his pointing his fist.
he thought that he was pointing his middle finger.
he thought that we were afraid.
he thought that he was a bully.
we thought he was arrayed.
so to his dismay, he pointed another fist.
not yet knowing that he’s fingerless.
not yet knowing his pointing the other fist.

there was once a fingerless man -
and he will be forever a jerk.
bullying. but still didn’t know anything.

sanuk sanuk sanuk

Posted on | May 5, 2009 | No Comments

my sanuks replaced my chucks. but my chucks are not lonely. loneliness is only designed for a special person with a special personality like the persona in me.

i say sanuk sanuk sanuk while ima gloop gloop gloop
not yet wanting, not yet waving bye bye, not yet killing
my old friends - chucks

but sanuk.
it’s just different.

Robot Boy (by Tim Burton)

Posted on | May 5, 2009 | No Comments

Mr. an Mrs. Smith had a wonderful life.
They were a normal, happy husband and wife.
One day they got news that made Mr. Smith glad.
Mrs. Smith would would be a mom
which would make him the dad!
But something was wrong with their bundle of joy.
It wasn’t human at all,
it was a robot boy!
He wasn’t warm and cuddly
and he didn’t have skin.
Instead there was a cold, thin layer of tin.
There were wires and tubes sticking out of his head.
He just lay there and stared,
not living or dead.

The only time he seemed alive at all
was with a long extension cord
plugged into the wall.

Mr. Smith yelled at the doctor,
“What have you done to my boy?
He’s not flesh and blood,
he’s aluminum alloy!”

The doctor said gently,
“What I’m going to say
will sound pretty wild.
But you’re not the father
of this strange looking child.
You see, there still is some question
about the child’s gender,
but we think that its father
is a microwave blender.”

The Smith’s lives were now filled
with misery and strife.
Mrs. Smith hated her husband,
and he hated his wife.
He never forgave her unholy alliance:
a sexual encounter
with a kitchen appliance.

And Robot Boy
grew to be a young man.

Though he was often mistaken
for a garbage can.

her space

Posted on | April 23, 2009 | No Comments

i looked outside the window and went outside my head. the world was in bicolor - black and red. red skies black trees red dogs black cats red people black houses red grounds black water. i walked straight to you and ended up falling a great fall. the pit was dark and shapeless shapes were everywhere. i called upon a circle of dark magic and ambitious rituals and summoned a god. the god had smithen the shapeless shapes leaving me behind. where am i? i said to myself. you are here. i answered myself. here is where your thoughts become alive. here is where your fantasies become real. it’s solid and you can touch it and you can eat it and you can rip it and you can spit on it and you can kill it and it can kill you too for your satisfaction for your delight. i smiled at myself curling some dead hairs rolling my eyes. have i gone mad? no. you’re just natural.

angry little voices

Posted on | April 23, 2009 | 2 Comments

angry little voices sat down her chest
crawling angry little fingers creeping on her crest
bawling angry little words of disparity of malice of nothingness
angry little voices dug deep down her chest
pulling clawing the heart damaging dismantling the brain
leaving her empty leaving her dead
angry little voices now burned her rotten messed up chest
forbearing evidence of angry little scars of nothingness

bookworms

Posted on | April 21, 2009 | No Comments

pasig: have you read the graveyard book?
taguig: nope, wuzat?
pasig: it’s gaiman’s latest
taguig: ow
pasig: ye. inspired by kipling’s the jungle book
pasig: u know what the jungle book was about?
taguig: hell of course! it’s about the jungle duh
pasig: LOL the jungle book was never about the jungle silly!
pasig: it’s about a boy who grew up in a jungle
taguig: tarzan
pasig: so u think the graveyard book is about the graveyard?
pasig: hahahaha
taguig: i’ll try fullybooked
pasig: try national, it’s just 300++ php, in fullybooked it’s round 500 i think
taguig: paperback?
pasig: yep

cool things about the graveyard book:

1. the child’s name was nobody owens
2. the villains called the jacks of all trades / knaves are the jacks from different nursery rhymes
3. nobody’s parents and friends are ghosts
4. nobody’s guardian, silas, is one of the honour guards (not alive nor dead)
5. get to know more about the different types of ghosts, yiha!

waves of thoughts

Posted on | April 15, 2009 | 1 Comment

creative minds oftentimes result to dangerous thinking. and inside these people’s heads swim a swarm of molecular words that are undeniably unreasonably selfish but really are their great ideals.

good people doesn’t mean they don’t think bad thoughts. and the people who called themselves good people are obviously the contempo Pharisees. and the culpable bad people either wanted to be the headline of the news or they are just solely true and brave.

when we speak, when we write, we choose our words and automatically turning it to something distinctly ours. and that is a brave thing to do. you know people just don’t own words. and not all people have the competence to create and recreate words. but how do we choose our words?

simple one word answer - imagination.

but again, not all people have the ability to imagine things. and those people are the lion’s share for this cancerous population. all they know are the words “fuck, shit, bitch, asshole” or “xoxo, sweet dreams, mwah, take care coz i care”. what could have been worse than those?

simple one word answer - you

the challenge to being brave is knowing your dictionary. saying and writing your words are part of your human liberation. im not saying that being liberated is being brave. all i’m saying is embracing your freedom defines who you are to this world. and marking your identity is what makes you brave and all. individualism is what makes every artists unique and brave.

random ideas from a tortured summer raggedy anne

Posted on | April 13, 2009 | No Comments

finally after a busy-lazy week, i can write again!!! hurrah to my digital paper - we kissed again! and i wonder where caliope’s ideas went during my head long vacation :p

now. now. i was walking in the mist. talking to the trees. fighting with the breeze. making love with the killer bees. no it’s not the type of vacation that i planned to. but it’s the type i missed! i planned to hang out with the street cats and give them food. errr decent food to eat.

anyway, my mind was randomly selecting numbers. scary numbers. like the type of numbers that you can’t say anymore. yes. descartes’ had cursed me the number phobia. like i care? of course. of course. at this age, i can’t even do simple math-o-logic man! now i’m embarassed… not!

i may not be an expert in mathematics. i may not be perfect. but i am perfect in someone’s eyes. we all do. and we all deserve to be seen a different way. a special way. a good way.

hail to the grace of neverending smiles. and as expected, you’ll never read me like this. never like this.

notice to the public

Posted on | April 8, 2009 | 1 Comment

readers,

reading this doesn’t make you any closer to my life. so do not pretend that what you see in here will give you any rights to judge and criticize me. attacking me doesn’t make it any good either. i am still me and you are still you.

i hope you enjoy your frustration digging the dirt in me. you don’t have to dig any further because the only dirt in here is in your mouth. visting a dentist is the best suggestion.

i am no friend with anyone uncivilized.

much.

a bee cee wee qee

Posted on | March 25, 2009 | 3 Comments

and so my multigender best friends have landed this third world country. this news gave excitement for a lost stray cat who had forgotten how to laugh. that we’ve waited long enough for this reconcilement and we are off to drown ourselves from toxic talks and be captivated by our own high school evil alphabets of catching up while licking the local summer icy pops in tiny bikinis with teen age hugs and kisses from their multigender lovers. the cat is happy and this is cloud number nine on top of a cheesy italian spaghetti.

talking non sense

Posted on | March 22, 2009 | No Comments

paint my heart red and my conscience black.
shape me a halo and a pair of angel wings at my back.
trace me a big smile with teary eyes.
write me a poem about your sad bye byes.
hide my face neath a theater mask and a broken voice.
get drunk with me and hear my silent noise.
catch me a star and make dust out of it.
push me some lovin’ and a razor i shall meet.
pray for my restless soul, light a candle.
answer my questions, solve my riddle.

dreaming india

Posted on | March 15, 2009 | 1 Comment

just like samantha brown and anthony bourdain, i want to be a traveller. not a tourist. but a traveller. and for the life of the fate sisters and the fiery star creatures, i am specifically speaking about going to india.

i’ve heard sing india during the arts fest and really - i’ve loved them so deeply it ripped me apart. and i go to this yearly fest just to see and hear those indian artists. but none of my friends liked it. none of ‘em have ever been to india and dare not want to. i wonder why. they said it’s dirty and smelly in there. but india - i want to taste it. i want to see it. i want to feel it.

animals in the streets. alive!
vibrant colors.
sand and smiles.
the taj majal.
the culture and history
…then there’s the people of india.

one day, when i become a traveller, i’ll definitely go to india first. then to egypt. to greece. but as a tourist, i think i’ll be in japan or in england.

dreaming …

the fallen

Posted on | March 10, 2009 | No Comments

briny water rolls down her cast
little words of sos got off her mouth
restless breathless sleepless all day and night
her hopes had fallen, her faith was long forgotten
how many stars how many hours
she asks senseless questions - how are you?
silly. bad girl you’re silly.

scarlet water rolls down her arms
little drops of red got off her flesh
restless breathless sleepless all day and night
her hopes had fallen, her faith was long forgotten
how many stars how many scars
she asks senseless questions - how dare you?
sinny. bad girl you’re sinny.

the lisbon girls chose it.
but where’s the right spot the cut can kill
see you silly. hold your breath. be quiet. be still.

keywords for my keybored

Posted on | March 4, 2009 | No Comments

red letter day is important
red ink is debt
red eye is sore
red alert is danger
red light is stop
code red is emergency
red tape is bureaucratic
red hot is exciting
red carpet is special

important:
when in spiritual debt and emotional sore, you might be in grave danger for choosing to stop your pulse beating. you know that it isn’t socially bureaucratic. and you might end up in the emergency room but deep within you it’s exciting and suddenly you feel very special

red is blood
blood is life
life is purpose
purpose is suicide
suicide is sin
and sin is always good

recapitulating the punk revenge of SCRAP HEAVEN

Posted on | March 4, 2009 | No Comments

title : scrap heaven
director : sang-il lee
leads : ryo kase| jô odagiri | chiaki kuriyama

the movie started by introducing the coolest bored people:

tetsu (handsome!!!), a bored toilet janitor, who’s imagination’s so wild that he can do whatever it is that he can think of his weird awesome mind.

shingo, a bored good for nothing cop, who wants to be promoted or move to the homicide division without doing any noteworthy works.

saki, a bored beautiful one-eyed pharmacist, who mixes chemicals to procreate explosive and blast the entire tokyo city.

and these three strangers met inside a hi-jacked bus. bang!

they created an underground society where you can ask them favor to make something vengeful to someone they hate. how? just go to a solicited toilet room, provide an ID and a valid reason for the revenge.

this is a dark comedy for the brilliant minds. imagination is the key to understand these people. my eyes were sparkling while watching this movie because i can easily relate to the story. for me, they are a bunch of bored youths (like me!) who just wanted to put their anger in the wrong place at the wrong time to the perfect people (that’s me!).

so what’s cooler than a fresh squeezed lemonaide? ahahaha. a lot. but something as new as a revenge game against the modern society is way way way cooler than anything else. scrap heaven is as loud as a bang!

noodles

Posted on | March 2, 2009 | No Comments

chopsticks, fork, or hand
slurp and twirl the strands
fried, stir fried, or with soup
you know how to eat it’s a loop

the more the longer makes you overfill
so bite it cut it kill the frill
so stop it spit it you’re eating a pile
you know how to eat it really takes awhile

some say eating noodles will make your life longer
but here’s my 2 cents to make you ponder:

life is long just like a noodle - true
and long life is just as frustrating as eating noodles
you’re sick and full of all the bullshits of the world
then you’ll feel it when you can’t take it anymore
living life and eating noodles make me want to vomit
make me want to throw up, make me want to end it

just like eating noodles, life’s a mess

ordinary people

Posted on | February 26, 2009 | No Comments

i don’t understand how humans connect.
stupid how they think that they’re part of my ink life.
funny how they think that they’re important to me
to even bother writing for them.
why would i even write for you?
hello???
if you can relate to my stories,
the world doesn’t care.
the world doesn’t know.
you’re insignificant
and your whole existence is unknown of.
so don’t act like everything revolves around you.
the simplest logic is - never read the stuff you can’t swallow.
sneakisera

live your life and spare mine

Posted on | February 26, 2009 | No Comments

this is getting very very boring.
you are getting boring.
and i am bored.
and i am tired.
and i want to be alone.

pieces of dramatic substances will never leave me alone.
you’ve chosen your path and i am left behind.
and you want me to walk behind you as you please.
but please. i just want to be alone.

push full stop.
eject. and throw it all away.
i want to be away from you and your stupid face.
phase 2. push full stop.

your life keeps on bothering me.
brother stop bothering me.
me. you. your. and your.
it’s sick.
sickening sick.

oat men

Posted on | February 25, 2009 | No Comments

raisin girls cripple over the crust.
oat men are in love.
rye boys deteriorate with the dust.
oat men flutter with the dove.
wheat widows cry on private hills.
oat men smile oat men fight.
ginger bread mistresses bleed pills.
oat men will kiss tonight.
whole grain sons smoke under the eclipse.
oat men writhe and last the forbidden microchips.

oat men live.
oat men die.
oat men give.
oat men lie.

breads reject the invisible threads.

this is for you L

Posted on | February 24, 2009 | 1 Comment

i don’t know what to say. and i don’t know what’s going on inside your mind. i may not know everything. but what i know is you’re my friend. no. not just a friend. but you’re a dear friend. the three of us may feel nonchalant. but when it comes to our families, we are someone else. because we are the good daughters. and you know that. and in times like this, you know you can count on me. i may not speak too much but you know my heart cries with yours. your story is moving. i may not have the religion but i have faith. i may not pray. but i am hopeful that your sister, the baby and your mum will be alright. and i am hopeful that you’ll soon be alright. don’t think too much. you know i am just here. see you next week. i really missed you.

madmen jean and harlot

Posted on | February 24, 2009 | No Comments

i see your face inside my mind
and hear the clock ticking
tic tic tic
every tic’s display your many smiles.
darn it never failed to make my day.

i hear your laughter
even when you are far far away.
i hear your whisper
as if you’re just near as you say
the words that you always say.

you madmen will go to hell
and i will go with you everywhere.

the same feeling

Posted on | February 23, 2009 | No Comments

this is the same feeling where breathing in the dark is the best deliverance;
you turn the lights off and never wanting to leave your room.
this is the same feeling where crying with the pillows is a better companion;
you can break down, tell them everything and they never judge.
this is the same feeling where remembering the faces is so much hurtful;
you see them not seeing you that you are ready to kill yourself and they’re still happy.
this is the same feeling where staring at the mirror brings so much horror;
you glimpsed for a second and you saw someone else staring back at you.
this is the same feeling where bleeding is the right option;
you cut yourself and feel the pain, not wanting to scream, not wanting your parents notice.

this is the same exact feeling where all i can think is my death and everyone else’s happiness.

miss

Posted on | February 23, 2009 | No Comments

i woke up today with a dead vision of your back. as much i wanted to scream “please come back”, i just can’t. and i need to understand. and i need to pretend. and i need to undergo this kind of suffering because i know where i am standing. and i didn’t even had the chance to hug you before we see each other sometime next galaxy.

i will miss you. and i am already breaking.

a twisted tale of a twisted tail

Posted on | February 20, 2009 | No Comments

call her empusa.

she wanders around the hidden forrest of the forgotten city. often you can see her smile. seldom you can hear her talk. her eyes are fiery red and her hair is burning. she’s a demigoddess from all aspects. she’s sweet. she’s pretty. she’s kind. but she’s strange. and the city girls don’t like her. but the city boys do.

and the city boys of the forgotten city have been missing during full moons - and no body was able to come back and no one was found - alive. the corpses of the city boys are scandalous. macabre. inspiring horror. their intestines were on their mouths. their hearts were on their fingerless right hands. their eye balls were on their fingerless left. and on their eye sockets were their fingers and teeth. five fingers for each. sixteen teeth for each.

the city girls of the forgotten city always gossip that these were all empusa’s exploits. one of them exaggeratedly outstretched a rumor that she’s seen it happen. one of them pretentiously traumatized. and so on. the city girls are likely to be compared to Abigail and the Puritan girls during the Salem witchhunt. girls will always be girls.

but empusa isn’t affected at all. the city boys just keep on ending up in graveyards. the city girls are forever accusing. and only the fogotten city knows what really happened.

NOTE:

empusa is a greek mythological creature who seduces men and ended up eating them. she’s the daughter of hecate (goddess of childbirth) and mormo (a spirit who bit bad children).

“empusa: a shape-changing, vampire-like creature that attempts to seduce a protagonist before its true form is revealed.”

she shoe she who she woe

Posted on | February 19, 2009 | No Comments

she put on her shoes

she can be a normal person:
tie the shoe lace and walk straight

she can be a unique person:
untie the shoe lace and walk unbalanced

she puts on a face and a name

she can be a normal person:
put some emotion; happy or sad

she can be a unique person:
be indifferent; what’s happy? what’s sad?

and now she woes

she can be a normal person:
cry

she can be a unique person:
slash

the window washer and the constant looker

Posted on | February 19, 2009 | 1 Comment

day 1. let’s get it over with
day 2. sorry, i changed my mind
day 3. i hate you!
day 4. sorry, please forgive me
day 5. leave me alone!

people change everyday.

i remembered a conversation with a friend:

friend: i’ve seen you changed
friend: i’ve seen you grown
friend: you’re opinions negated your standards now
friend: but there’s one thing that hadn’t
friend: you’re still a good daughter

now that’s interesting.

petrified!

Posted on | February 18, 2009 | No Comments

i know that some of you had fell in with this kind of nightmare:

you’re asleep. but you can see the actual environ of your room. you see everything, you hear everything and you can’t move at all. nothing’s there but your senses that you are having a nightmare.

the long fingers

i used to live in an apartment near the office, sometime in 2006, together with my office mates. i was looking at the surroundings of my room while i was sleeping. i can hear the rock music that my office mates were playing. i can hear they’re laughters. usual things… not! i’ve heard someone telling me to wake up. angrily screaming, actually. it was a voice of a woman. this is scary because i was the only girl in that apartment. but hey i can’t wake up. i can’t even move.

anyway, on my peripheral vision, a very strange hand was trying to move near me. i say it’s strange because it’s very white and the fingers are unusually long (not finger nails!). then it grabbed my left arm “wake up!”. and so i did. and when i woke up, i was the only one in the room.

and did i mention that i had a hand marked on my left arm with unsually long fingers?

the kitty shinigami

my cat just gave birth to three litters, sometime in 2007. i played with the kittens almost everyday and i’ve seen them opened their eyes and started crawling. a very happy thing to remember.

one night, again i’ve fallen asleep with the familiar surroundings of my room. there were chanting voices at the back of my ears. i hear them but i can’t understand them. one of them jumped at me. then altogether they were pulling my hair. i can’t move. i can’t cry for help. i was shocked half frozen.

three little black hooded creatures… i’ve seen them! and the next day, all my wonderful kittens died!

the specks and the dark

Posted on | February 17, 2009 | No Comments

the bard had dreamt of a tale that he needs to write when he wakes up. the tale was about the specks and the dark. but when he woke up, he had forgotten what the tale was all about.

it is true that inside your dreams, you create your world. and in that world, nothing can escape. even a thought. even an idea. everything stays in your dream. yes they’re in your head, but you’re still unable to remember.

but sometimes, we remember our dreams. and those type of dreams aren’t dreams at all. they’re something in the border of the corner of your minds and your sleeping eyes (almost ready to enter the reality). you know, the things that you want to happen but they just wouldn’t.

remorse

Posted on | February 17, 2009 | No Comments

things started to make you think whether or not he still loves you especially if he ignores you more than his usual snobbing. then the news just spread out and you still want to be poised and composed. so you put in an undaunted front. “we are still happy”.

but you only think what you want to think. you know that there is a problem. and you can’t just accept it. he is cheating on you for godssake!

it’s like everyday you miss him. everyday you need him. but where is he really? accept this truth: he is with the other woman. and then the next thing that you can do is wait until they’re over and pretend that you don’t know anything. or you can just walk away and take his son with you.

just like a fast running rabbit - running for its life

Posted on | February 17, 2009 | No Comments

this is very true.

some people who wanted to die usually have chemical imbalances. they don’t really want to die but there’s a part of them that they should. there are shadows and voices who stalk them in the dark telling them to hide. and these people are afraid.

when suicide failed them, they either cry and promise not to do it again or consult a psychiatrist and move on. basically they want to start a new life.

this is so very true.

some people who wanted to die just want to die. with or without reason, it really doesn’t matter to them. they just want to do it. and they are the only shadows and voices who tell themselves to hide. and these people are brave.

when suicide failed them, there’s only one thing that these people do - try it again. basically they don’t see themselves living their lives any longer.

this is much much true.

i am brave.

today

Posted on | February 16, 2009 | No Comments

today my kitty just gave birth to 5 kitties. in total, i already have 15 kitties to take care of. i remembered one time i had to take care of 18 cats.  my gawd. i was working and earning money for my feline sons and daughters and granddaughters and grandsons.  so then i had realized that it was time to give some of them a new home. i can’t be a good provider for them any longer since i am also the bread winner of the family.

we’ve found them a better place to live. and the other cats just keep on giving birth.  GAWD!!!

paperdoll

Posted on | February 16, 2009 | No Comments

the fool with the paperdoll

the fool had found her crying inside a doll house. but he ignored her since there’s so much going on with his life already. the fool had a dream. on his dream, she was still crying - exactly how he left her. so the fool sat by her and hugged her. that’s when he realized that the crying girl is made of paper. and half of her face’s already deformed due to tears.

then he woke up. and he was still a fool.

the boy who fell in love with the paperdoll

some boy had found her on the same spot where the fool had left her. this boy was curious so he took her home and dressed her up. she stopped crying and this boy would always kiss her. and he loved her. yes, she stopped crying but it didn’t stop her from feeling nothing.

one day, the boy found the doll headless on the floor. his wife had torn it.

the cat who ate the paperdoll

a tabby had passed by smelling, playing the headless paperdoll. you know how cats play by itself. it’s never fun. but it is for them because they are cats and we are not. the tabby got tired and hungry. and it swallowed it.

the next day the tabby died.

the lost paperdoll

the head survived.

ishutup

Posted on | February 15, 2009 | No Comments

or else everybody will get hurt - again. my tongue is sharper than my razors. and you know that. my eyes are shut and my ears are folded. my middle finger is on my back. and you are out of my graphics. i am standing here without you. and without you, my life is just the same.

you don’t have the rights to put words on my mouth. so therefore i shall not speak of it ever again.

coming out

Posted on | February 15, 2009 | No Comments

sometimes we have to be brave enough to withstand the paybacks of the wrong courses of our  reprehensible human actions. the gravity of the agony is actually trivial. what’s important is you should learn from it. but as an irresponsible human being, what if i stayed away from the morale and continue doing these again and again?

yes i have wronged. and i am willing to be crucified for the evil things i made and will make. there’s nothing else that i cared for but myself and my dissatisfaction to life. i might have realized this before - but i am a pain eater.

i am coming out unclean. i am denied. i am forced to tell lies. i am compelled to wait and watch their love story. i am obliterated. and i will have my revenge.

the charlie world

Posted on | February 15, 2009 | No Comments

inside his head was his dead wife and his dead three daughters.
inside his head was the vision of their deaths.
inside his head was a big old and locked box.
inside the big old locked box were his memories.
inside the big old locked box were his happy memories.
and his happy memories were long lost forgotten.
and his happy memories were nothing but pieces of broken glass.
it pricks. he bleeds. and he easily forgets.

someone i forgot and someone i wish to forget

Posted on | February 15, 2009 | 1 Comment

some unknown number had called me the other day. he wasn’t speaking. it’s as if he was just listening to my voice. so i hang up. he texted and said that he’s someone i forgot.

i’ve forgotten a lot of things already. even myself. i’ve forgotten how vindictive i was. how principled i was. i’ve forgotten about my health. i’ve forgotten my education, friends and some other things and people i can’t remember. and opted not to remember.

i’ve changed to a new me. you can say that i’m better. but what i think that i’ve changed for the worse. i’ve entertained the thought of breaking the rules. i’ve given all out for someone who isn’t willing and ready to give his all in return. i want to forget him too. but he won’t let me. i want to forget everything, but he is too dominant. he knows where my blind spot lies and he keeps on using it until i am no use for him anymore.

i want to kill my memory. i want to kill my body. so everybody will forget that i’ve once tried to eradicate your golden belled life. i want to forget. i want to get lost inside my head.

the second option girl

Posted on | February 15, 2009 | 1 Comment

the second option girl is someone who’s emotionally weak.
that she can easily be abused by someone who is mentally stronger.
the second option girl is someone who’s blinded by no-win promises.
that she can faithfully stay on a relationship with someone unworthy or less.
the second option girl is someone who waits painfully.
that she can only cry and be hopeful that something good will come.

when she’s happy, someone suddenly pulls the smile out of her face.
when she’s happy, someone suddenly wants to go home.
when she’s happy, someone suddenly makes excuses.
when she’s happy, someone suddenly needs to take care of something.
when she’s happy, someone suddenly tells her to sit back and wait - forever.

mr. boy wonder you are very prejudiced and unfair.
mr. boy wonder you are very hungry and lust thristy.
mr. boy wonder you are who you are.
and who you are is mr. boy wonder.

unlisted

Posted on | February 15, 2009 | No Comments

that sad girl is being used by a happy boy who likes to excuse.
he has a list of the most important things of his life.
and she’s seen it, and she’s taken a sharp knife.
she’s listed down to the very bottom.
he said someday you’ll be on top when the snow falls in autumn.
not now, just wait.
and she mocked a hate - fuck it’s too late.
the sad girl stabbed her head and killed her heart.
the happy boy pretended to cry, saying that he’d been badly torn apart.
but there’s nothing to her for him, she wants the silent movie to end.
but he keeps on running after her feeling he’s her boyfriend.

picture a life. shot a drama. awaken the beast.

the messy b

Posted on | February 14, 2009 | No Comments

uncombed damaged hair fell down the old fences.
crooked high heels stumbled upon their pasted faces.
sloppy ugly cosmetics traced through her scary nerves.
smelly raggedy dress worn inside every angle’s curves.

she can’t heal. she can’t love. she can only hate. she does sins. she tells sad stories. she talks hurtful things. she thinks weird ideas. she writes ill.

and when the sea ebbs, she cries. and when it tides, she still cries.

wait until she breaks down. just wait. you’ll see that she can’t die. it’s a bitter-beautiful mess. and everyone’s excited.

temporary internet files

Posted on | February 13, 2009 | 1 Comment

you know when you have all those webbie files saved on your computer and happily accessing the webbies smoothly because your computer already recognizes them? you visit them almost everyday and it doesn’t even carry weight if you are happy about it or not. the kinesthesia is so erratic - you know that it just sits there. then it becomes a part of your daily stressful and boring life. you check ‘em out every once in a bit.

you know when your internet acts too slow that you can’t do anything but scratch your heads and curse the provider but can’t throw away the modem? you ring the helpdesk up and the first thing they tell you is, “can you delete the cache, cookies and all the temporary internet files?”. and you said “okay, let’s give it a shot.” cleaning up made it a lot easier. then you’re back to running fast again.

it’s an analogy of having something and wanting things that are temporary. happiness is all but a temporary joke. good things don’t last -  that’s what i’m sure of. so i advise that you prepare yourself to let go and cherish all the temporary piece of stinking effing ess while you still have them.

you know when it’s time to remove them from your life. you know when to give it up. you’ll know in time that you can’t always be together. you’ll know. you’ll see. it hurts. it effing hurts.

eventually that’s how it’s going to end

Posted on | February 13, 2009 | No Comments

i used to think what’s inside the minds of the chemically imbalanced people. you know, people like them, semi-me, perhaps? :p you know, what they can see, why they became such and how’s it going to end.

what they can see sometimes i see. i see red skies, theater masks, lines from poetry, rounded calendars and the arithmetics.

why they became such made me such. extreme emotions, neuro flashbacks, word obssessions and rooted visionary cognitions.

some people gave in. some people got ahead. some people were cured. some gave up. and others were lost.

anything’s possible

Posted on | February 11, 2009 | No Comments

she is elsewhere in the middle of the somewhere and the nowhere. and nobody seems to bother what the place should be called but it’s definitely there. she said it’s a hidden safe house between the reality and the the human imagination. some place where your thoughts can freely run and swim around anywhere at anytime with anyone. it isn’t a dream. again, it’s in between. for there’s a bad ass intangible supreme being (or whatever you call it) that controls the real world and the dreaming. but here, you and your creative minds are unrestricted. in other more convoluted words, if i may speak: you can be you in the you as you like it.

i know. i know. it’s close to insanity and it’s hard to understand but believe it or not… i do understand her. really. a lot. i am not insane, i think we just share the same bed, see the same soul, and taste the same colors. and i will protect that place as much as i want to protect her. for when she dies, that place will still remain. nothing will change. you’re still you. and i’m still me - running around the squares - freely.

there comes a point in every life, when something more substantial is a neccessity

Posted on | February 10, 2009 | No Comments

day by day this loneliness just keeps on gaining weight. doctor please find an antidote and narcotize this shit. it’s becoming heavier, mega distracting actually - as if it is constantly evolving to complete into it’s super form - the duper form - the super duper form. the frozen smiles behind the happy masks and the distorted meloDIEs behind the loud laughter are becoming more and more evident. crappy disguises won’t work now. because normal people are wiser. and sad people are sadder. the dark places (for a brief escape) are becoming crowded.  so what can we do? where can we go? will we ever get that godly happiness that we all wanted? tough luck.

this is what life is all about - i guess. it’s a rocket science serendipity. life is full of surprises. you don’t have to know what you have to find. what to give. what to get. what to gain. what to lose. you can’t even choose who to love. and your journey to find your happiness is all that matters - for me. happiness used to be as simple as snow. but now, happiness requires more - more friends, more money, more wisdom, more love.

writers are liars

Posted on | February 5, 2009 | No Comments

i want to write something but the voices have already left me wordless. i am nothing without the words. i am nobody without the voices. if fry and madoc got calliope for ideas, then i’ve got the voices to provide mine. nothing can be written down without ideas. no writer can write with just a pen, a paper and tons of meaningless words. they’ve got to have ideas.

i can’t write anything today. but i know i’ve got to. i have to. i need to. write something. just write anything, stupid! pull yourself together and breathe. hear the voices. feed to their ideas. translate them into words. nothing’s published but invisible tears.

i don’t know what to write at all. just put on a mask, my gawd!

eating defiance

Posted on | February 4, 2009 | No Comments

all of us are unique. and i know that some of you are just like me. i am special. or least i need to have a special attention. because if i don’t, then i won’t survive your normal world. i deserve it anyway.

i hate people. and you know that. i just want to sit under the shade and walk away without hearing anything from the rest. i just want to write how boring it is to live here. you know… to have a life like yours, like mine, like this.

people like me are survivors. we are socially predesigned to be alone and strenuously live by the social standards. your fucked up rules. while some of us can’t control our state of minds and senses, others gamble on challenges for survival. i love challenges. they’re keeping me alive.

there are things that you love because you know you can’t have those. you undergo difficult situations just to get it, and when you do get it, you’ll just throw it away.

there are things that you like because not all people like those, you undergo criticisms and public humiliation, and when it goes mainstream, you’ll just turn it away.

janowwatemsayin?
nadda.

it’s so sudden that i decided to change

Posted on | February 2, 2009 | 1 Comment

so then i’ve decided to make a little change for myself. i can’t always be me as i am. perhaps a little change won’t hurt too much. maybe, all i really needed is a time for myself and not to rely to someone else. i think i can do things on my own for my own by my own.

i think i can keep everything for myself. i don’t have to talk, actually. i don’t have to find someone that i can speak with. i think i can keep everything for myself.

yes being alone is sad. but choosing to be alone is more than that. it’s braver, it’s sadder, and it’s darker. i know i can do this. i’ve been through hell a lot of times already.

and when the time comes that i can’t do everything on my own anymore, i will cross my finger, close my eyes, fold my ears, so help me god that i’ll be able to walk around without anyone noticing me that i am on a wheelchair.

keybored [spc] [esc]

Posted on | February 1, 2009 | No Comments

ideas and words.

sometimes i hear little voices narrating, telling me their utterly confusing stories.
sometimes i see bulb headed people thinking, scratching their bulb heads, thinking.
sometimes i smell the squibbler ink stinking, writing scary alphabets.
sometimes i taste the dead poets air, unfolding the unspeakable unknowns.
sometimes i feel like a blank piece of paper, waiting for the right words to be tattooed on my body.

behind the mask.

an evil grin for i am a sinner.
an innocent face for i am a saint.
an intelligent smile for i am a trickster.
and most of all, a lonely crying bitch for i am the saddest of its kind.

more than real.

blood leaks out from my wrist.
poison spreads out inside my body.
pollution and derangement - my nose kissed.
iron and confusion - my tongue consists.

always it hurts.
forever i am lost.

the crossroad

i walked through the path of a neverending dotted digital lines.
the sun smirked and sulked in 60 seconds interval.
the heat burned half of my spirit, and the half just got stronger.
i took the risk and i am not looking back.

for every stop i make shows the same sign.
all signs read - you are here.
and all signs lead me to the vicious realization of emptiness.

iFeel

Posted on | January 31, 2009 | 2 Comments

what’s in me right now is an army of question marks. i want to ask everything. everything that’s moving in and out of my head. but i guess i just have to stop and leave all these questions unanswered until the right time comes. well is it the right thing to do? aha! that’s another question. the right thing. i don’t think that i’ve had the time to contemplate and figure out myself the meaning of doing the right things. i am going crazy. i really do. i’m falling apart. i’m deconstructing into a handful of dust.

inside me is a cherry blossom that doesn’t bloom. or it can’t. or maybe it’s about to. perhaps it’s just waiting for the right season. or maybe it’s already dead. i’m not sure. everything’s indefinite anyway. all the things that i do or say always ends up without a clear substance of prevalence. this cherry blossom is taking it’s time. and i’m already suffering.

an army of question marks for my confusion and a cherry blossom that doesn’t bloom for the lessons i never learned - well that’s a sundry synthesis of a little family that had grown inside me. filling me up. suffocating. killing.

crimson and scarlet

Posted on | January 30, 2009 | 1 Comment

happy razor. drop those droplets. it’s an easy burn. it’s a simple disguise. but not an auto fix.

wear an innocent mask.
laugh. jump. conceal.

it’s pathetic but that’s the only way out.
it’s sad but that’s the best way to smile.

the mourning bunny

Posted on | January 29, 2009 | 1 Comment

do i look like a bunny to you? well i know one person who does. and that’s a blast from my lonely past.

my two front teeth may look like a pair of a bunny fore teeth, but like a bunny, for me, a companionship isn’t actually just an option - it’s a necessity. ever wonder why your pet bunny just die after the other (the bunny partner) one died? bunnies can die because of loneliness. bunnies can be very depressed when left alone. bunnies are defenseless. bunnies might have the speed - but a fast running bunny is also a juicy apple in the eyes and the stomach of a hungry sly fox.

sour candy for bitter-sweetness

Posted on | January 26, 2009 | No Comments

mike “why is everything here completely pointless?”
charlie: “candy doesn’t have to have a point. that’s why it’s candy.”

some people think that this blog is just like a candy. 100% meaningless and completely stupid. kid stuff. emo kiddo. whatever. like i care what you think. this blog is negative pragmatic.

however some people think that this blog is completely revealing. but let me tell you something you little fish snots, 99% of these entries are pure exaggerations, more or less comprehensively whimsical.

and then there’s a handful of constant meddlers who keep editing these shits and republishing to their own candied blogs. god you’re not writers. you’re just a bunch of editor-copy-pasters-nincompoopsies grrrr. well… please do as you please.

“everything in this room is eatable, even I’m eatable, but that is called cannibalism, my dear children, and is in fact frowned upon in most societies.” - willy wonka

the man and age : understanding the undervalued

Posted on | January 26, 2009 | No Comments

i know that one day you’ll despise me. hate me for doing these things to you. i am sorry and i pity you. i know i have choice to just walk away but i didn’t. i didn’t because it doesn’t want me to. it wouldn’t. because it couldn’t. this is not a matter of winning or losing. this is a matter of pure understanding which comes with age. believe me when i say that i tried. i tried to walk away. but it seems that being a saint and a sinner also comes with age.

in front of an old mirror, i am saying these things. in front of an old mirror, i am giving myself a scary smile. in front of an old mirrror, i am someone else… even the old scary mirror had aged. and it aged well and lonely too.

kung hei fat choy

Posted on | January 26, 2009 | No Comments

you may not notice it but i am part chinese. i may not look like it but i am. hehe. my grandpa’s chinese.  i’ve studied and graduated kindergarten in a chinese community school. spoke mandarin and wrote calligraphy. anyway, let’s welcome the earth ox.

last night. with a couple of drunken chinese friends we head off to their area - the chinese community celebrated 2009 with a bang! and i can still smell the gun powder. hear the drums. and see the colorful dancing dragons. but wait…. the food the food!!!

hear it from the drunken masters ———– we’re out!

kung hei fat choy

what i learned from momoko

Posted on | January 25, 2009 | No Comments

“humans are cowards in the face of happiness.
you need courage to hold on to happiness.
sudden happiness has indeed made me a coward.
and i’ve forgotten what happiness means.”

- momoko

i know deep within myself that i am no use to the world at all. but be an excess baggage to my friends and whine about how lonely it is to be me. complain (endlessly) what life had done to me and what i stole from it. what karma i’ve got and how much i am willing to get more.

so i’ve found happiness at a local store. i couldn’t believe it - it’s something usual. something normal. but i am beautiful facing it. i know, even without a mirror that i look beautiful looking at it. but i am senile. and i can’t hold on to it. because that’s something i couldn’t keep. and it isn’t mine to keep. it’s for something else with purpose. and i am useless. sometimes i want to steal it. but most of the time, i can’t. i am nothing compared to the purpose. that i just couldn’t betray it.

“so what if I were deceitful?
my happiness was at stake.
it’s not wrong to feel good.
that’s what rococo taught me.
but actually my soul is rotten”

- momoko

i am a bad girl. yes i am twisted. and the public might chuck me out from having the stamina to shoplift. yes i am a bad girl. and i am wise. i know that there are CCTV’s out there. so i’ve studied most of the strategies - with just a little sprinkle of common sense, add a cup of decency and a spoonful of foolishness.

“if you like something, take it.
if it makes you happy, do it.
humans always betray each other.”

- momoko

not really.

a confusing argument with myself and the voices

Posted on | January 25, 2009 | No Comments

why should you attack me (even indirectly) if there are some things that you cannot understand? i don’t wish to be understood (especially in the modern society by the modern society) because i simply don’t want to. if it isn’t the answer that you want, then there is an argument. people argue because not all people think the same. there’s the good people and there’s the bad people. and there is no justice for the “bad” people because the society will always support the “good” people.

now i wonder, if you are unique, if you think differently, if you have sinned - you are bad. and what makes the good people good? my answer is - good people are hypocrites. they think they’re pure. people think they’re sin sensitive. and perfection sometimes even matter. and that’s a funny thing. someone even said - there should be balance in the world.

off topic. lucifer fell to bring balance to the world. because god is the good god. so there should be a bad god too. and lucifer fits the category to be bad. because lucifer wasn’t innocent. did you even know why he rebelled?

on topic. rhetoric is an art to deliver freedom of speech either spoken or written. and you don’t have to be understood nor accepted by the modern society - your only goal is clarity. nothing more, nothing else. and persuasion is just as equal.

oh juan! turf tin oh nay!

Posted on | January 23, 2009 | No Comments

oh juan! turf tin oh nay!

ayn ay doe no water sail anemo.

thought that i could read neverwhere over the weekend but mr google informed that there was a movie already made for this novel (1996). coolio! now i know what to do on the weekend - stream it! youtube streaming is a hobby of the bored people. why make an effort to watch a movie that was cut into 9mins sections? so that’s how many parts? hmmm. ha! idk. as if i have a superfly connection to watch it smoothly anyway.

oh juan! turf tin oh nay!

ayn ay doe no water doe anemo.

thought that the words and dreams made that day were as clear as a slap. and now i’m lost in translation again. again and again. but whenever i  hear you making me remember those, i feel like i’m being born over and over. will you ever make me grow up? i think never. i know that peter pan isn’t real nor does neverland exists or ever existed. the neverland is the place where i want to stay with you. the neverland could prevent you from aging. which is cool. but the best idea of it is that it’s also the place where you can be and live with the people you love - forever.

oh juan! turf tin oh nay!

ayn ay doe water sea hue weed hur amber.

neverland is my nevewhere. and neverwhere is my neverland. but forever i am nowhere.

the sound of his shoes on the sticky floor

Posted on | January 21, 2009 | 2 Comments

i hear you coming.
i can hear you.
i know it’s you.
i know the sound of you walking close.
i hear your shoes walking close.
i hear the sole on the sticky floor.
it’s you.
i know it.
i know it that when i turn my back,
you’ll be the first person that i’ll see.
you should.
even if it isn’t the way it has to be.
it should be you that i’ll see.
i hear you coming back.
i can hear it.
i can hear you never coming back.
and i’m never gonna turn my back either.

ako-puncture

Posted on | January 21, 2009 | No Comments

pinning voodoo dolls
that’s what it is.
it’s only a doll,
and i shouldn’t feel a thing.
and i am only human.
fragile and weak.
that’s where the hurt is.
knowing there isn’t much that i can do
but be the stupid faceless voodoo doll that you can prick.
that you can break.
that you can use.
that you can just throw away.

a useless doll is made of useful cloth.
am i used?
can anyone understand this easy feeling?
i just want to sail through that easy escape.
easy. escape.

hop on.
propel.
wave this beauty queen hand,
blow an innocent kiss,
and say my bitter goodbye.

tears.

should i text an x?
of course.
of course.

the many questions of a stray cat at alley 47

Posted on | January 19, 2009 | No Comments

meow. meow. where should i go?
meow. meow. where will these wounded paws take me?
meow. meow. where can i get food?
meow. meow. where can i drink some water?
meow. meow. what should i do?
meow. meow. why do i keep on walking?
meow. meow. why am i alone?
meow. meow. why do i have 9 lives?
meow. meow. what if i just want to give up?
meow. meow. can i just cross the streets?
meow. meow. why am i hurt?
meow. meow. why does my body’s flat lying there?
meow. meow. what is this feeling?
me-ouch. me-ouch.

teeth twisting bottle caps

Posted on | January 18, 2009 | No Comments

she’s lying there, facing the sleeping walls, silently thinking that there’s something she meant to say, but didn’t yet. she ought to, but can’t… yet. she’s lying there now. she’s quietly lying there with everything behind her and nothing ahead. she’s lying there. thinking there’s something she wanted to say. she’s lying there, facing the strange walls, silently thinking that there’s something she meant to say, but didn’t yet. she’s lying there and she’s bleeding and it seems that she doesn’t feel the hurt of the bleeding yet. she’s lying there, thinking… thinking endlessly. bleeding for ever. she’s lying there, facing the crumbling walls, silently thinking that there’s something she meant to say, but didn’t yet. and it’s too late.

few reasons….

Posted on | January 18, 2009 | No Comments

lately i’ve been writing a lot. and lately people have been reading this blog a lot. sometimes the words just keep on flowing in and i cannot keep up. the voices are excited, they’re whispering all at the same time. my mind’s listening but my fingers cannot keep up. this could have been the end product from a continuing emotional distress. because i can only write when i am emotionally disturbed. seeing through this head you’ll see the wordless thoughts waiting to be worded. seeing through this head you’ll see where my heart lies. i heard one said i need to write, but i need not reveal. so here i am writing, sitting soundlessly, being a good friend, hurting, pretending. they tell me that i write well. that my words are weighty. they tell me i write well and sometimes i question myself (and the voices) why i’ve been entrusted with this heartbreaking talent. and it seems lost and wasted. i may write well, but i am disgraced that these words should be used on immaterial provocations. i may write well than others and that’s even more dismaying. because they will be expecting a lot from this writing flair. i know what i do best. but i don’t write just to write well. i write because i am unable to speak. i write because i feel miserable when i speak. then the day ends for me as everybody’s just started. and these voices, and these words are the only forces that’s left… when i wake up, dreams retrench and i am back to business.

hello world.

the heyoka functions

Posted on | January 17, 2009 | No Comments

when i’m awake, she’s asleep.
when i’m in high spirits, she’s depressed.
when i walk, she will creep.
when i lie, she will confess.

when i’m thankful, she’s agitated.
when i’m calm, she’s irritated.

live me alone.
stay with me.
your presence is unknown.
yours is customary.

she just had fun.
when i pulled out this gun.
and then she lives
as my family grieves.

i will be sleeping immortally neath the grounds that you walk as a clown.
i will be sleeping immortally neath the grounds facing down.

the heyoka lives inside us. waiting, wanting, rendering uncertainties. playing tricks, teasing, acting the paradox of what we are doing. they are the sacred jesters who bring sacred curses. we see them in our dreams, hear them when there is silence, feel them when we are indifferent.

she made me kill myself because she wanted to live the life that i hate.

- heyoka

her fostered life

Posted on | January 16, 2009 | No Comments

“i will take him with me, and you take her.”

that was the last conversation that she remembers between her mommy and daddy. she was 7. and of course she didn’t understand anything at all. a conversation is just a conversation. just words being delivered from one person to the other. those words didn’t have any meaning for her. of course. she didn’t even know what words are. and looking at her innocent face, she seemed confused. but again, she wasn’t on the age to understand things yet.

the moment was surreal. their faces were pasty. the weather was red. the trees were gold. everything was moving so slow. and slowly, tears were running down from her mommy’s eyes. and slowly, tears went down to his daddy’s cheeks. “what are tears anyway?” she asked herself. “why do we have tears when we cry?” at last! she knew one thing - when you cry, there will be tears. but why are they crying? then slowly she watched her mommy walked away with her little brother. she was left on her father’s arms. and they walked away too.

keep in mind that she was 7. and she was quiet. as if she was listening. as if she understood things. 7 year olds aren’t like that. they play. they laugh. they play. they cry. they play. whatever. but this girl was far from being part of the social norm.

“i will take him with me, and you take her.”  that hurts. that was just the birth of her “alone and abandoned” days.

“i will take him with me, and you take her.” these aren’t just words. nor just a conversation. this is a story already. a story that’s been waiting to be written on her blog… one day when she reached 25.

wristful thinking

Posted on | January 15, 2009 | No Comments

these hands are pretty cute and clean. and i’ve always been in love with these wrists. yes i cut them sometimes. they’re hurt but they liked the feeling. the bleeding. and the forgetting.

you know it’s always good to feel something even if the feeling is pain. it’s good to feel pain than to feel nothing at all. it’s good to feel pain physically than emotionally. and it’s always best to bleed alone and wake up with all the might of pretense and guilt redemption.

i love my wrists. they’re mine alone.

the ultimate dream of a dreamer

Posted on | January 15, 2009 | No Comments

a dreamer is someone who wants to live and subsist inside his/her imagination than to live in the real world. it can either be the aftereffect of a trauma that he/she had with the plastic people inside the real world or it can just be that one finds him/herself real inside the dreaming. or it can be both.

i am a dreamer. and i am both. and my dream as a dreamer is to embrace the silence - forever. because any words i might say here or to you can only be lies.

i am a young dreamer. and my dream as a young dreamer is to write and die young. because i have no desire left to live. but i have a thousand reasons left to write.

some dreamers aren’t as skeptic as a i am. and some dreamers already died. some dreamers lived. but some already committed suicide. some dreamers already committed suicide but they still lived. and living after your awaited death is a depressing exclusive faux pas. which is actually good. because you still have another chance of killing yourself tomorrow.

got keys?

Posted on | January 15, 2009 | No Comments

the life that i choose is a life full of doors. locked doors. that whenever i feel something’s running after me, i will run through the hallway and pass by the locked doors. knock knock knocking but no one’s there to open the locked doors. and then the feeling becomes more and more intense. i am getting more and more afraid. afraid to whatever it is that’s following me. either it’s an angel or a demon, with good or bad intentions, i will keep on running. passing by the locked doors that no one wants to let me in. and even if i find the matching keys, i will never open a locked door with my own trembling hands.

“i will never fit in anywhere”. that’s what i keep telling myself. and i am frantic and unkind.

the life that i choose is a life full of doors. locked doors inside my head. but in reality - they are really unshut.

the difference between us

Posted on | January 15, 2009 | No Comments

everybody knows me as a sad girl. but everybody is not me. you aren’t. so why judge me? when the eyes look sad, when the lips can’t stretch and smile, does that mean that the person is sad too? not at all.

look at her. her eyes are bright! just like the most radiant color of the sunshine. her smile is so big knowing that she has everything that she wanted. but inside her heart - tells a different story.

that’s a sad girl. she just don’t know it yet.

red season

Posted on | January 15, 2009 | No Comments

it’s easy to forget yourself sometimes. sometimes you just want to be alone. sometimes you want get along. sometimes you want to get what you want. and sometimes you just want to crash and die. when you want it, no one can ever stop you. yes you can harm yourself. but there are other factors that pull you away from your judgement. so then you realize that you are becoming more and more considerate, subjective and wise. yes you are alive. but you know what you really want. and you just can’t. and it sucks.

h-ache

Posted on | January 15, 2009 | No Comments

riddle on my head. which voice is talking now? i thought i had the answer. love was in the air. smile was everywhere. but then i saw so many questions in you. “why am i with you? i am so much better without you”. riddle on my head. what are you talking about? you said that i am good enough to love but not good enough to take home. did i learn? i never really did. i just got tired of waiting. we are really just friends. riddle on my head. sand in my eyes. prickling my crumbling heart.

takoyaki

Posted on | January 14, 2009 | No Comments

“and i shall get my driver’s license soon”

uhm, i’ve heard that before. like every other week you keep saying that. are you ok? takoyaki’s been here for almost 9 months now and you’re still not driving!!!

the pick pocketer

Posted on | January 13, 2009 | 4 Comments

ace hain (not his real name), told me a story about a boy named pau bonifacio (not his real name) and how he ate adobo in class during their young young days (circa theresa magbanua).

pau was eating his lunch (adobo)… hmmm yum yum hmmm. (rrriiinnnnggg) shoot! the bell rang! shoot! he just ate a few. shoot! so he hurried back in class and put the adobo chunks in his pants’ pocket.

and you know how the story ended - with his stomach full and his pants wet.

hahaha

this is how much i miss you

Posted on | January 12, 2009 | 1 Comment

i miss you like i miss lucy gordon’s era.
i miss you like i miss the classic bottles of coca cola.
i miss you like i miss my lost cats and dead kitties.
i miss you like i miss our high school committee.

one.
two.
three.

we’ll always be the trio that everyone wanted to be.
and we are the heroes unseen on national tv.

L and I —
this is how much i miss you:

if there’s no L and I on emmerald lingasin,
what would i be without my name?

L and I —
that is how much i miss you.

a piece of advice

Posted on | January 12, 2009 | No Comments

m: huy
l: ola
m: kamusta?
l: nawala kja kahapon
m: tagal mo kaya
l: yosi and kain kain
m: hehe
l: hoyt, alam mo gusto ko mag masters ka
l: anything related to writing
m: like?
l: masters in Linguistics or Writing
m: hahaha
m: as if may ganun
l: meron check in UP website
l: meron em
m: haha
m: at bkt naman aber?
l: feeling ko kse ur good at it
l: and we nevr know
l: your writing can have its place
l: ako din im planning to take my masters
m: dami nga nagsasabi… pro it never crossed my mind -as of yet
l: akala ko nga para lang sa mga educators ang masters
l: but thats something fulfilling ryt?
l: you can attend classes once or twice a week for 2 hours
m: waaaa
m: if i have time y not
m: hehe
l: wag mo isiping wala kang time
l: mas sex nga may time ka eh
m: hahaha
m: wala kaya
l: ako rin wala kaya
m: hahaha
l: so magaaral nalang ako
l: ehehehe
m: wow
l: bago magsaswa
m: cge nga i’ll check it out
l: ahahahaa
m: bka anjan ang future ko
m: hahaha
l: seriously
l: kse its nice to present your works with professional backup”)
l: Emerald Lingasin - 1st Honor
m: hahaha
l: ahahhaa
m: cge i’ll see
l: 1st honor in Stretching
l: Cutting
m: hahaha
l: of cors

as the situation called for

Posted on | January 12, 2009 | No Comments

midnight that day, ren’s body was transported to the funeral parlor.

nobu and shin followed.

under everyone’s persuasion, i stayed behind at the inn with miu until daylight to rest.

but sleep never came.

in the hometown of ren and nana, ren silently sleeps forever.
what words can possibly be conveyed to nana now…

as long as i’m with nobu, i feel at ease.

but i musn’t be so thick-skinned as to say such things.

at this moment, i want to rely on nobu’s gentleness.

ren will never come back again.

ren you are no longer around.

nana didn’t say a word.
she neither cried nor touched him.
all she did was stare dumbly at his hands.

i’m sorry ren.
nana must still find it hard to accept the truth.
therefore, please be patient.
i’ll make sure that your intentions get to nana.

for now, please forget your pain and rest in peace.

ren is gone.
the future that we looked forward to has become as blank as a piece of white paper.

as of today, i have yet to add any pattern or color to it.
without nana, there is no beginning.

***ai yazawa’s nana***

what’s wrong with my blog?

Posted on | January 12, 2009 | 1 Comment

then don’t read it!!!
hatesahaters!
this is me.
anerber!
google something that you can read and love and leave my blog alone!

tbar

Posted on | January 12, 2009 | 5 Comments

the best place to hang out for the sad people: tbar

comfy and dark.
expensive alcohol and cigs.
cold floor and soft pillows.

perfect for crying.
perfect for comforting.
perfect for pure imperfections.
perfect for white lies and hidden obvious warmth.
simply perfect for us.

it witnessed how much we grew and matured.
it saw how cruel and romantic we were (ha! and are!)
and it already became a part of our drunken weekend lives. (circa ‘03!!!)

tbar.
we shall see u soon.

last night

Posted on | January 12, 2009 | No Comments

moon bear.

why did it took so much time for us to figure out that we really are meant for each other?

family ties. book binds. crossword geeks. jeopardy avids.

we didn’t care but we really admire each other. it’s just that we both find each other as a competition. we didn’t get it. we hated each other but still - when one’s sad, the other becomes an automatic shield. and so the rock hearts melted and reformed - stronger and stronger.

last night. i cried because i have to let my 32% go. but the remaining 68%’s still there because it will always be you. and you know that. right?

last night. you cried because she already left you. it’s complicated. you said that i’ll always be your 50%. tsh. it might be tougher on your side. that’s half!

last night. we were both sad. neither of us became the shield. you remembered the promise? hehe. good grief. we should be there for each other no matter what happens. because we are us.

weird couples of the east.
- an eon to be at eased.

we should be happy.
and wave the white flags.

thanks to your mum.
she’s the best.

x.o.x.o
m.k.

ms. understood

Posted on | January 11, 2009 | No Comments

so i’ve been misunderstood. AGAIN

like it’s something different ey? i’ve been misunderstood for the rest of my life. and it’s pretty much normal to me so don’t get shocked if i am not shocked.

yet again, i am ms. understood.

the 5th year and 1 week

Posted on | January 11, 2009 | No Comments

i know that you’ve been there for me for the last 5 years (and 1 week)
and i’ve been here for you too for the last 5 years (and 1 week)

we were just too weird for each other then because we were both stubborn and principled.

we’ve seen each other fell in and out of love so many times. and it’s really weird that we’re still waiting for the right time to come that we let other people interfere our weird relationship.

but everything’s different now. after last night, the conclusion is - at last.

thank you.

will we ever survive?
stay tuned.

iheartu
hanggalingsaktono?

the praying mantis

Posted on | January 11, 2009 | No Comments

this is the situation.

the mantis fell in love with a bee.
but the bee loves the honey.
and the honey loves the bee.

where’s the mantis standing?
nothing.
it’s an apprehensive intruder.

the mantis prayed for a friend it can cry on. but the mantis doesn’t have any friends at all because it is a predator. the ants and the other insects gave the mantis their cold-shoulders.

and so the mantis continued to pray for her mantis friends to come back.

this is the situation.

the mantis camouflaged.
and no one can see it anymore.

what’s inside my head right here right now

Posted on | January 10, 2009 | No Comments

wavering minds, suffering kinds.
clouded words, severed lords.
empty look, conspicuous nook.
crushing smiles, shining guiles.
missing piece, kissing peace - goodbye.

that was a lie.

the soul is determined.
the path is icy.
the wind is patterned.
and the consequence is pricey.

the defense of the defenseless

Posted on | January 9, 2009 | No Comments

what i have are words written in the air and hers are on paper. many have said that i am mono-valiantly fighting a war without a weapon. but little did they know that i am carrying the most omnipotent weapon of all…

for as long as i have you by my side, this battle’s unquestionably already over.

the curious tail

Posted on | January 8, 2009 | No Comments

why cats why? lately i’ve been seeing a lot of you dead on the streets. your furry bodies are now flatten roughly on the highway. ouch. my heart is broken and my eyes are teary. why cats why?

road kill.

were you really curious?
or humans are just naturally violent?

felis catus, may the cat lord guide you to the heavens and provide you a neverending supply of maguro. forget about the earth and the lands that you’ve shared with the barbaric humans… forgive them. the human lord had just spoken. here him say … all animal killers will go straight to hell.

differentiate animal welfare from animal rights.
is there really a law for my little friends?

the zoo.
the circus.
the pet shops.

do they really care? it’s obvious. everybody’s going to hell.

bitter coffee in the morning

Posted on | January 5, 2009 | No Comments

good morning sunshine!

i don’t want you to assume that whatever you do or say, that i’ll just get angry and make things worse. i just feel betwixt and between, unsure and unsecured. and i was hoping that you understand those things that make me … you know - think. sorry. i just can’t get those things out of my head.

i don’t want you to conceive that i see you as someone stupid and inferior. never. when you can’t solve my puzzle, just let it go. because when i ask you riddle, it means i am shifting gear into my evil twin. so we can blame it to the moon.

hey you know it’s serious now, right? this is the first time i feel as if i am happy and alive. wow. darn i’ve fallen terribly hard this time.

people can say bad things about me. people can do me harm. i care. but what can i do? i am just a faulty little human who loves you.

ouch. my lips just touched the rim of my hot hot coffee cup. i said to myself (in half petrarchan half shakespearean sonnet style)… i shall wait. ouch! this coffee’s cursed!

the boat is sinking - group yourselves into 3!

Posted on | January 2, 2009 | 1 Comment

t : i dont want to feel the same feelings again..the fact that He is totally straight
t : may gf sa pinas…
t : pero na naramdaman ko nga lang un great feeling na
t : alam mo ung youve seen how the person changed for the best
t : napa evolve mo sya to become a great person..ang kaso I loved my master peice.
m : well we both have the same level of frustration
m : im on ur boat
m : but for a different current
t : sana lang we dont sink
m : jaaaaaaccccccccck
t : rose
t: i better get some sleep now dear
t : i miss u dearly!
m : u too
m: i love you bitch
t : same bitch

mirror

Posted on | January 2, 2009 | No Comments

there’ll always be that spooky feeling whenever i see or pass by a mirror. especially the big ones. not because of my appearance or whatever (che!). but because of “that” presence.

and what is “that” presence?

the dark.

sometimes when i look at myself, i see something horrible and evil reflecting me. as if someone / something has been living inside me that’s eating me up when i see my reflection. wanting to come out. waiting to to be unleashed. but who? and why?

people used to tell me that i think dark. yeah for an introvert like i am, i think it’s inane. but what the heck? why would it haunt me visibly? some said it’s because i have no religion. i don’t have faith in god. i am witch. a bitch. a what and a what. i mean come on? it’s the dumbest theory. ever.

the mirror… hooks me up with depression… through my fear. the dark.

get a life

Posted on | January 2, 2009 | 1 Comment

but for arguments sake

***get a life F5 losers

hey but on the contrary… why should i even listen to u? ha!

we are leo’s

Posted on | January 2, 2009 | 3 Comments

Leo and Leo? Definitely yes.

The relations between natives of the same sun sign often have more good parts than bad parts, but the bad ones are almost impossible to get over, because both have the same flaws!

A Leo-Leo relationship can be excellent provided that you don’t forget the Leo next to you feels the same need for compliments, admiration and adoration as you do. Therefore, you have to give as much as you expect. It shouldn’t be too difficult because just like you, (s)he is passionate and ardent, full of ideas and desirous of living life to the full.

Of all the sun signs of the zodiac, Leo is the most shining. Leo is governed by the Sun, which is in the centre of the system and, most often, deserves his/her name of “king”. Everything Leo does is refined, everything Leo buys is stylish, everything Leo thinks is bright. So are you, so is the Leo next to you.

Don’t forget that Leo can discern flattery in the others’ compliments as well you can: Leo has a sixth sense with which (s)he detects falsity. So, no matter how tempted you are to flatter, be yourself, otherwise you’ll walk into your own trap. When you tell him/her (s)he is special, you have to believe it, because, just like you, your Leo doesn’t just want to have the throne, but to feel the royal power.

-http://www.eastrolog.com-

post-it from the good god

Posted on | January 2, 2009 | No Comments

new year. i was pissed and bored. god please gimme something to do!

shortly after turning my cellphone off, i thought i saw a smokey chimera or something from underneath the printer. it drew closer and closer to my computer, and i thought i saw god. i swear to god that i fucking saw the gaddam god as he turned the pc on and opened mozilla. so quickly it faded without an odor nor a trace of heaven but it left a post-it note on the monitor:

hey bitch,

stream these movies online and i know you’ll feel better - temporarily:

sympathy for lady vengeance
kamikaze girls
last quarter

enjoy and habi yu yir.

love rocks never sucks -
the good god

and for the first time, i took order and he was right.

now what?

tired and wasted

Posted on | January 1, 2009 | No Comments

i am so tired and stressed out of understanding you and your stupid situation.
i am so wasted and overly used of pretending that i really understand you and your stupid situation.
i am so close to hurting myself so i won’t feel you and your stupid situation.

frustration level:
9.8/10

help and support hotline:
36.9.66.28

conclusion:
linger and get hurt.

result:
madness

8:36 PM | Jan.1.09

Posted on | January 1, 2009 | No Comments

currently thinking, typing.
currently waiting, waiting.
currently mad, sad.
currently waiting, waiting.

what a great way to start the year right!
another 12 months of waiting!!!
kamown

i am suicidally dumb and dangerously moronic

Posted on | January 1, 2009 | No Comments

i am falling.
i am failing.
i am flying.
i am lying.

these tears are so lonely. i can’t breathe normally. depression has attacked me on the 1st day of a new year. what is this feeling? i am breaking down.

and at this rate, all i need is something heavy. something sharp. something shiny.

i am lying.
i am misleading.
i am bleeding.
am i dying?

waddup with trust?

Posted on | January 1, 2009 | No Comments

when i say i’ll be out for a date,
why do you believe it?
when i say i need some space,
why would you let me?
when i say leave me alone,
why would you leave me alone?
and when i say i don’t love you anymore,
why would you let it go?

you should know me more…
can’t you just hold me tight and tell me that you knew that everything i just said were lies?

if you can’t… where’s the trust?
if it’s not there? where are we getting at?

2008’s counterblow before it buh-bye’d

Posted on | January 1, 2009 | 2 Comments

2008 was a very very rewarding and excruciating year. it was my year of missing the life that i used to live, the friends and people that i love and i miss. (sigh…) wait. i think i’m having a mental flash back. dark clouds spurting outta my ears, crawling into my nose, blocking my eyes, sealing my lips.

anyway, 2008’s a fast runner. a cruel and fast one. but before it left, it hit me straight in the face!

i got home 4 hours before 2009. i didn’t have my house keys handy. there wasn’t any people at home. i have no load. the cel’s batt drained and died. i spent the new year outside the door with bright christmas lights, a stray cat and some lonely teardrops as beautiful fireworks popped into the air.

and for some crazy minutes of realization, i cried not just because of 2008’s revenge, but the fact that i am always alone. that no matter what i do and where i go, isolation and departure will always be a part of the drama. i cried as i was sourly wishing that he’ll come back to stick around and welcome the new year with me. but he didn’t. i was looking from afar waiting for his car… zero.

a phone call is just a phone call. my worth is just a cheap and a short short phone call. maybe.. just maybe, my market value is below a micro cent. darn. i feel stupid. and it’s silly. sometimes i think we are pointless.

araykopo!

facing the walls without a wink

Posted on | December 29, 2008 | No Comments

words just keep pouring on my head.
waiting, wanting to become a phrase, a sentence, a paragraph -
frustratingly excited to hear and read their stories.

these words are being whispered inside my head.
by the faceless and nameless lonely voices that reside it -
they want their stories, they want it twisted, sad and cold,
oftentimes dark and unusually sarcastic.

i write for them. they feed me emotions.
but they’re not selfish enough for me not to write for my own.
i have my own stories.
i have a face, a name and a heart.

10secs delimitation

Posted on | December 28, 2008 | No Comments

beneath the clouds i’m floating on my bed. my head is forming a cloud floating inside my head. headache. it’s one strong one of a kind headache. unable to stand up - too weak to eat. i am bedridden. you delimit me from seeing you. i hate you! i want to see you but i still hate you. i hate myself feeling this way. feeling and knowing that i can’t do anything but wait. and wait. and wait. can you lose me just like that?

10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1

boom!

idream

Posted on | December 28, 2008 | No Comments

we all dream, right? well it seems pretty much certain but not all of us have the resourcefulness to dream what we really like to dream about. so what do i like to dream about? given a shot for me to dream incessantly… it’ll be just to dream our dream - you know, our shared vision of impossibilities, high hopes and pure smiles.

yet again, you showed me the sweetest dream, mr. sandman. it was like a happy first love. and as junko put it, “it isn’t just unfaithfulness, it’s something serious, don’t you understand?”

the holiday

Posted on | December 26, 2008 | 1 Comment

my day wasn’t so holy for the holiday. but i’ve just had the best times of this departing year.

kurismasu. a day that’s been long awaited by many. and it just passed by our faces and wallets so quickly. it’s cold. fucking cold. the kurismasu weather didn’t stop me from feeling the summer heat. it’s warm. fucking warm. thanks to the cigars and the morning blankets.

have a wild merry kurismasu em-chan!

10 q’s from my office fishbowl

Posted on | December 23, 2008 | No Comments

1. what’s the best gift that you can give yourself? why?
- a break… vacate myself and travel to the best parts of the world. bec i haven’t tasted the peace from a break yet.

2. what type of partner would you choose for yourself?
- a purring ball from the kingdom metazoa -  pusa… mysterious, silent and territorial

3. what times are most difficult for you? how would you deal with them?
- when depression attacks. slash slash

4. what would you like to achieve in one year if given a chance to become a senator of the country?
- enforce and response to animal rights

5. one of the jealous times of my life was…
- everybody’s gotsa graduate but me

6. if given a chance to become a moviestar, what role would you like to portray?
- the drunken and dreamy life of edgar allan poe

7. if you were to die this very moment, do you know for sure where you would spend eternity? explain
- roam around the lands from divina commedia coz i’m obssessed to it!

8. what is your dominant fear?
- lose myself and unable to write the stories from the “voices”

9. what do you do when you’re home all alone?
- talk to my imaginary friends

10. what examples would you like others to follow about you?
- don’t support animal products. no to meat. no to animal testings.

the pain reliever

Posted on | December 23, 2008 | No Comments

kiss me with your burning desire.
build me your passion - full of fire.
i know that you liked it since you were a teen.
during those days when you and your friends tasted my nicotine.
the heat that comes out from me takes you away from your invisible pain.
and i know you liked me more under the sad sad rain.
breathe my breath. cough. dance with my steam.
i hear your whispers just like in your cold cold dream.
and as always when you’re done..,
just lit up another one
- i know you’ll feel better again somehow.

the one reading

Posted on | December 22, 2008 | 13 Comments

some say that the one reading this isn’t really a reader. hence they try to decrypt and analyze my riddle. they try to enter my dictionary and steal it. copy paste my story and republish it. gain access to my commentaries and counter attack me. find clues. hate it. but still they read it. people have their own rights for their own opinions - freedom of speech and poetry license. it really doesn’t bug me… but i know how it bugs you.

dear reader,
thanks for checking this out. this one’s for you.

never the girl

Posted on | December 22, 2008 | No Comments

no make up
no preservatives
100% all naturale

no stilleto heels
no sugar
0% total fats

no lipstick
no cholesterol
2% dietary fiber

piecemeal of normalization

Posted on | December 22, 2008 | 1 Comment

i just want to live a normal life without the normal people surrounding me and telling me what to do. normal people sucks. just like you.

i just want to love normally. just like any other normal people does. because normal people loves normally. and i envy it just like yours.

i just want to eat normally without eating the normal way. because normal people eats anything that walks and swims and bleeds just like any other normal people does.

i just want you to love me the normal way. just like how you love your normal love. without your normal alibis and normal shits.

and lastly, i don’t want to be normal. as much as you hate being different.

changes

Posted on | December 17, 2008 | 1 Comment

my tomorrow

someday i’ll be a social worker
i’ll be the stray cats protector
the animal rights governor
a good samaritan

my yesterday

yesterday i was a loner
i was the melodramatic psychopath
the window shutter
an anti social

my today

today i am a ——–
i am a ——–
the ——–
a ——–

your’s

yesterday you made an assumption
today you are reading this
tomorrow you’ll keep finding my track

twisted alpha - alienated omega

Posted on | December 15, 2008 | No Comments

and i will not give you up just yet -
it’s a bad canon at john.
even when people keeps stabbing me at my back
and spreading bladed words to the wolves,
and blowing and sending paper boats to the sea monsters,
that i know that i rock where em is -

Action Skipper

Posted on | December 11, 2008 | No Comments

let’s just deny it and move on. let’s do whatever we like and pretend that everything’s just okay. but wait… i was never okay. blah blah blah. let’s skip to page 4. blah blah blah. blah blah blah. blah blah blah. blah blah blah.

okay cool. we’re back to page 1 again. great. that’s just BS great. start this over and over until the bookmarks give up from this silly redundancy. are you okay with it? because i’m not. (rhyme it)

random thoughts for a schizoid

Posted on | December 9, 2008 | No Comments

crap. i’m smelling a stench coming out of my shithouse. funny, but maybe that’s the reason why i’ve been feeling so helplessly stupid. kamown! del just visited me while i’m half-awake from a smokeless continuing nightmare. she told me i should give in. she told me to join her colorful world. she told me to stop and let go. then i asked her if i can transform into a school of fish, swimming in the clouds - just like her. she said no. she said - NO. then i asked her if i can be a butterfly with burning wings. she said fuck off. she said no. she said - NO. she said i love you but you just can’t be whatever that you want to be. but she promised me that i can be one of the strands of her hair. think. she said she can wait. her head is still full anyway.

now i’m listening to the soundtrack of dancer in the dark. fuck i can’t help it. i’ve been taken away by the visionless lyrics of the hapless.

“i’ve seen it all, i’ve seen the dark.
i’ve seen the brightness in one little spark.
i’ve seen what i chose and i’ve seen what i need,
and that is enough, to want more would be greed.
i’ve seen what i was and i know what i’ll be
i’ve seen it all - there is no more to see!”

sssshhhh. feel it. yet i don’t want to shut my eyes to see the rest of the world - cruel world. i still want to see you, you know? despite all these. i can’t see myself reading and touching the braille. it’s not me. it isn’t us.

us. pleasing everybody is not my talent. us. that is still a big question to feed everyone’s hungry minds. maybe as big and as broken as the self-clipped wings of lucifer morning star… the fallen angel.

the talker’s talkies tall talks

Posted on | December 5, 2008 | No Comments

the lady in red had just spoken a sad monologue. she told it to the bats and was heard by the trees - the gossipers. it was from a family of the willows and carried away by the eastern breeze. but the stories aren’t just rumors. they’re true.

she almost died half of her teen age years due to suicidal attempts. 40 drugs in 500mg - one swallow. daily. it felt heaven and hell at the same time. she can’t breathe. she can’t stand. she can’t talk. she was paralyzed. but at least she was numb to the pain of the world. they rushed her to the hospital. bad news. the effect was a 70% burnt liver. bad news. there’s a little success rate of liver transplant. bad news. she can’t take meds for 7 years. nuff of the overdosage, there’s still a lot to try. poison. same effect. she was still alive. nuff of the oral intakes. she tried to cut herself and it felt damned good. she was 14. and ongoing.

her skin is thick. the wound ain’t that deep. perhaps she doesn’t want to die after all. perhaps she just wants to feel the pain and see the red tear drops from her eyeless wrist. yes. her skin cried blood. and it smiled with teeth too.

the eastern breeze spread the rumors. the willows have nothing to do with it. the bats are considerate. and the fruits are innocent.

seeing fairies

Posted on | December 1, 2008 | No Comments

twilight.

after watching the movie, i can’t help but feel and transform my world into the elyssian fields…again! growing up as an outcast and renounced, i’ve found my cotton blooms inside my mind. i love to sleep because i love to dream. i love to dream because i want to live with my phantasm. i love living with my fantasy because i am only in full color inside it. my rainbow has more than 7 shades … it’s gotsa million! and i’m back to black & white in the real boring world.

nobody knows how my imagination works. or how creative my head can think. i remembered tetsu said “people lack imagination - but not for the people like us”.

and what are the people like us anyway? people like us - doesn’t like people that much.

the truth is …

Posted on | November 30, 2008 | No Comments

the truth is…

you’ll always find and get back to her when the day ends.
you’ll hug and kiss her goodnight.
you’ll be hers forever.

the truth is…

i’ll always lose you when the day ends.
i’ll miss you.
and you’ll never become mine.

the truth is…

stealing glimpses and stealing time
won’t make any difference at all.

the truth is…

i can’t lose this.
no matter what it takes, i just can’t go back.

the truth is…

i am a lie.

naughty loosin’

Posted on | November 30, 2008 | No Comments

everybody was on a rush
everything was a must
why now? why then? why now?
but then again we were persistent -

we’ve waited for this day to come
of course this should start and end the way it should be …
or so we thought?

by land and by sea
we were happy
under the sun light and under the starless skies
we were happy

the moment was perennial
- never passing… undying

just like two restrained souls
- unconstrained at long last…
that even for a short term independence
the two happy and unconstrained souls have managed to keep a long term commitment

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for you.” - ed cullen
a lopsided grin overtook me…

all dressed up and nowhere to go

Posted on | November 30, 2008 | No Comments

i thought i was prepared for this.
i thought that i can do all my best.
but it looks like madame karmique had found me scratching my head
amidst the shore of an unbreakable thorn -
that she took advantage out of this distressing situation
and turned me into a pumpkin seed.

yes i am a risk taker.
but this time it’s something different -
this time…

ren just died. and everybody’s sad.

define fair.

Posted on | November 17, 2008 | No Comments

fair is free from deception, bias and self-interest.
when a stranger unexpectedly interfered your stipulated life,
and you’ve already entertained the thought of the ruins and the damned,
will you understand the stiff situation and the tormented heart vessels?
or will you let your the ID take over and worsen the scenario?
the latter is being selfish.

being unfair is self and social disposition.
being unfair doesn’t mean that there is a victim of the injustice.

fair.
it’s a word that i’ve been ignoring for the past few weeks.
but it keeps on haunting my dreams.
it wants me to realize that i am being undertaken by the impudent.

fair.
nothing’s fair.

his thought process and my love for the smart ones

Posted on | November 16, 2008 | No Comments

it’s amazing what a mind can do.

i am specifically pointing to the precocious and cool mind of nara shikamaru. one word - impressive. boys with big brains are really sexy. i don’t know - but that’s just a personal motor response. they write, invent things, read, code, think, plan. they’re so serious that they don’t have time to think anything related to the real world. they have their own little geeky world that you just want to be part of. they are fantastical, virtual and elite. when they talk, you just want to stare at them and listen even if you don’t know what the heck they’re talking about. but the words and how they speak them are very poetic. - gggggggrrrrrrr - and no matter how and what they look (i.e. oversized glasses and mech lingo), god they’re so cool.

but when they fall in love… their little geeky world crashes. then they changed to someone else they never knew of.

iheartshika
mlovesu

the undesirable #1’s desirables

Posted on | November 13, 2008 | No Comments

10. animal rights
9. prose and poetry
8. crossword puzzles
7. graphic novels
6. anime
5. neil gaiman
4. japan
3. scarf and chucks
2. cats
1. silence

shit-ne

Posted on | November 10, 2008 | No Comments

twas cold and rainy under the black and starless skies… the horse was red and so were his cheeks. the fish got buttered while he forked it’s delish flesh. the taste of yule is almost here but that night - the time was meaningless as high hopes preserved. small talks big secret. was that it? think deeper as smiles were slowly being tattooed inside their happy hearts. shit. that’s a word to remember.

the x prototype and the z formula

Posted on | November 8, 2008 | No Comments

i’ll always be an x - that’s for sure.
is it a choice? or is it just one of the hypnotic ideals about fate? honestly i can’t tell. i dunno. but i really want to call it - the x protype. y? that’s the point! you don’t have to answer the “y” question because it’s x! period.

anyway, an x has to grow you know. we have to evolve, prove and improve. an x has to advance to z to end these senseless alphabets. and to achieve that, you need to have a complicated, well concentrated and perfected formula. it could be demonstrated inside an animal free lab or just your fucked up boring room. but again keep in mind that it has to be perfected. or else… you’ll explode and end up as a normal failure of a sub equation.

right now, i consider myself as the x and more. probably an x compound or substitute. because i know… i just know that we’ll never be an x + u = z

undefined happiness

Posted on | November 4, 2008 | 3 Comments

define happiness.
or is it even in my dictionary?

i don’t think so. they said it’s a natural feeling of bliss - similar to what i am feeling now??? maybe.

question:
why?

answer:
only the secret keeper knows.

the alter ego

Posted on | November 4, 2008 | No Comments

so i’ve been inspired to write when i am hurt or whenever i feel sad or when Despair catches me staring on her mirror. i can write as many sad stories as i can as long as i am down and iffy. i can’t help it. it’s a drug.

but the third mirror reveals more than just ‘me’ as the sour lady.

meet my alter ego.

i am a crazy woman who knows exactly how to blend insanity and sanity. i am the best writer and portrayer of the magnificent ironic sentiments and half dead theories. craziness is my favorite mask. and i aint gonna take it off.

phone call

Posted on | November 4, 2008 | No Comments

i’ve never been so happy these days (aside from feeling heaven huyyy) until a phone call last night. damn i miss the bitches and our senseless talks.

thanks T…
haymishyu!

huyyy

Posted on | November 2, 2008 | 1 Comment

thank you | sorry | i’m so sorry …

huyyyyy

i miss you

i love you

of intelligence and emotion

Posted on | November 2, 2008 | No Comments

after watching shippuden 82, i just realized that i was in the same phase of emotional disturbance as shikamaru’s. it’s a filler episode but who the hell cares? asuma just died so give it a break goddamnit.

so where were we again? there. he was surprisingly silent all through out the lost and death of someone significant to him. and his intelligence didn’t matter at all. it didn’t give him a sense of direction - where to go and what to do; he had a hard time facing the true emotions of pain, grievances and regrets; overall - his intelligence let him down.

shikaku told him:
“let out all the sadness, fear and anger that’s building up inside of you. that’s the first step”

and so he did. he took the first step and the next morning… he became a different person. heart broken but has the brightest sunshine all over his ingenuity.

i made the first step ahead of him… and i’m moving on to the second step - guilt deprivation.

hyperventilation

Posted on | October 29, 2008 | No Comments

too much love caused me nothing but emotional desolation. i heard that cupid just pulled the arrow off from his heart and i was left inside the domain of his own sorrowful karmic world. so what do i do now? i can’t do this forever. i just can’t face the reality that i’ll be the least of his priorities and wait. be the sacrificial lamb so he can achieve his goals. but is it worth it? will he come back and stop the hourglass from crying? i dunno. i want to say that i don’t care. but what’s more important now is to analyze a checkmate move. if only i have the bright mind of shikamaru… i could’ve done this flawlessly. i have to walk out of this shit. i just can’t take it anymore. it’s too much for me to handle.

little by little i’m taking brave steps. brave enough to find something superficial and pretend that everything’s all real. is that bad? i guess it is. i am running out of fresh air to breathe. and i hate this polluted dead space.

listen to the ting tings:
“we walk…  if it all goes wrong… we walk… if nothing makes you feel good..then nothing makes you feel good… we walk”

breathe.
inhale.
exhale.
work.
walk out.
then smile and hypocritically allege that nothing happened.

deeper…

Posted on | October 27, 2008 | 1 Comment

they said that “beauty is skin-deep.” if this is true, so what can you say something about mine? my skin’s been dehydrated for quite sometime now. and the surface of which has a tattoo, piercings and a lot of suicidal scars and anamneses. can you call it beauty?

let’s go deeper -

deeper than my skin lies a bunch of rotten bones. deeper than my rotten bones sleeps a sad soul. deeper than my sad soul is my dying faith. and when i lose it… i am far from being beautiful.

i’ll be a faithless framework of irretrievable ugliness.

expecto patronum

Posted on | October 27, 2008 | 1 Comment

“i expect a guardian.” patronus is the embodiment of the caster’s happy memories and acts as a shield, protecting the caster.

mine’s just a silvery swirly piece of something unrecognizable. something that faded faster than the speed of sound. i keep on concentrating and thinking of happy thoughts to produce the perfect patronus. and i just can’t. i fucking can’t produce my protector!!! especially at times like this, i need it! i badly need it. can somebody help me please? help me gather some happy thoughts… please…

expecto patronum!
sweeshz!
still nothing.

i give up. fuck you harry potter!

the impossible ob wan kenobi

Posted on | October 27, 2008 | No Comments

in this world of mobocracy; where everything’s high-tech. where every young minds chase after the gods of intel and mac, cam-phones, the robotics and kaoss pads. where time is unstoppable and everything’s passing the fast lane at 342 m/s. there i found myself straddling the fence of trans-hallucination while everybody’s busy baking buns. sipping a tall sugarless and creamless iced americano at starbucks with a couple of friends, i realized that i wasn’t worth a cent. i should’ve been as precious as my name. see? maybe that’s the reason why my precious name was misspelled… that i wasn’t born precious at all. i used to think that i am intelligent, but really… i am just a normal dumb person. i just realized that i can’t reboot and i can’t auto destruct. then there was ob wan… an ordinary gentleman which i found extraordinarily pillowish. he’s impossible for me as i am to him. i just can’t destroy such a picture perfect little happy box. should i just ignore this circling curse? or should i continue to disillusion? one night a tangle - either way… i am just a stupid futuristic little bee.

iMissT

Posted on | October 19, 2008 | No Comments

since highschool, whenever i feel down and upright crazy, happy and spotted by a mood swing lunacy, T’s are always there for me. and whenever they feel the same way, we’re always there for each other.

we’ve been tested through time and shits. beers and weeds. girls, boys, judings and tomfoys.
until they flew to the mid east and i was left… alone. fuck i miss them.

i wish they’re here with me.
i wish i’m there with them.

T… i’m in deep sadness. i need your reinforcement. s.o.s 911 a.s.a.p

iMissT - M is MT

10.19.2008

Posted on | October 19, 2008 | No Comments

i’ve been waiting for:

a visit
a text
a message
an email
an offline message
a call
a surprise
a smile
a kiss
a hug
a chat
an untold story
a ride
a dinner
a drink
a smoke
…you

but i woke up today
realizing that everything that i’ve been waiting for
is a packfull of joke

dear diary

Posted on | October 19, 2008 | No Comments

today i just gained another faceless and nameless voice
it’s vengeful.

anyway, as they continuously grow in numbers,
i can feel that my head is ready to burst.
i’m afraid that someday they’ll take over my sanity
and i’ll completely lose myself.

nobody seems to care anymore.
everybody left me.
and he told me he’ll never ever…

and predictably, i am alone again.
and i don’t know who i am.

screaming in silence

Posted on | October 19, 2008 | No Comments

the first day was hurtful
second day was regretful
third… fourth… fifth… so on
everyday i feel numb.

when will this stop?
how will this end?

i know someone out there knows how i feel
to hold back these sad tears… shiver and smile.
to wear this happy mask… adjust and care a little.
to tell everybody that i am ok… am i?

everyday it hurts.
everyday i’m feeling more and more alone.
everyday i feel what i felt years ago
and everyday i just want the time to stop.
god let me breathe.

sometimes i can’t help it.
most of the time… i just want to —

and here i am, looking for a cure.
i’ve found it so many times.
but it always leave me armless.
now it left me riding a car.

i am hooked (again) in Despair’s mirror.

hello ms. Despair, i’m back.
so what kind of loneliness will you shower me today?

Despair : specialty ala carte
Desire : fake love
Dream : endless nightmare
Destiny : sand and butter
Destruction : brain eruption
Delirium : hee hee
Death : we will never meet. suffer bitch!

me: shut up! i am only speaking with Despair!

endless: so be it.

words they whisper

Posted on | October 16, 2008 | No Comments

she tried to quilt herself many times

Posted on | September 25, 2008 | No Comments

she walked with her chuck taylors and printed dress,
and glided through the beauty of darkness under the full moon.
the buoyancy of her thoughts were once just some solitary paths of her egress,
but later on became tickets to an unknown drama of the weather’s monsoon.
she talked with her unpainted lips and twisted tongue,
and told some tales about the divine submission of the cheerless and the alone.
depressed people old dispirited people young,
in black and white words she wrote it in the taste buds of the world’s monotone.

the first visit

Posted on | September 23, 2008 | 3 Comments

someone called erin’s name on a soft and playful voice. she knew the voice, she knew the giggle. it was her 3 year old cousin - mica ell.

she was playing on the garage with half of the folding bed folded. like in the position where little kids can slide and have fun. erin won’t forget that day. mica ell was in full energy hugging and kissing her. they slid together and giggled like forever. then she noticed some fog coming out underneath the folding bed. it was growing so fast. but mica ell doesn’t seem to care or notice it at all.

then mica ell stopped.

“let’s go inside now, i want to show you something”

what is it? she was holding her hand while walking through the thick fog. it was cold. but it didn’t matter. then she giggled again. a huge golden door emerged out of nowhere. wow. the door opened, mica ell was the first to walk in when erin felt that she was actually fading. she saw her cousin’s face calling her.. come back. come back.

she woke up hearing her mother’s voice “erin wake up!, what are you doing? you’re having a nightmare”

no. i was playing with mica ell in the folding bed. but when it’s time to go home… i faded and let go of her hand.

erin’s mother cried.

“erin it’s impossible, mica ell just died this morning.”

the bleeding trees from the middle ring

Posted on | September 13, 2008 | 1 Comment

one idle time, yukio decided to do what he does best : stare blankly at the walls and think deep… deeper and deeper. until he drowns.

suddenly he is inside a dark forest.

“so why am i here? i thought of something sad… why a forest?” he said.

and then he started to take paces after paces. while walking slowly and stupidly familiarizing himself with the surreal atmosphere that he is in, he heard something. could it be the falling leaves? no, there weren’t any leaves nor gusts of air to take them away. closer and more clear, it wasn’t something of the nature… someone is actually talking!

“who - who’s there?” (but what he really wanted to ask is, “who’s inside my mind?”)

“helloooooo”

then he heard lots of whimpering voices. yukio can’t understand anything because they talk all at the same time. but there were lonely words and sad stories. he didn’t know what else to do but cover his ears and pretend that he was really alone. then he sat down and accidentally broke a twig. someone cried!

it said “ouch! you fucking piece of human shit!”

“huh? who are you?” yukio fearfully asked.

“me? who am i? who are you?!” it replied.

“i am yukio and why are you inside my mind?”

it didn’t say anything but the whimpering voices are still whimpering. it’s strange but there are other people inside his mind. why? how? since when? and then he noticed that he is still holding the twig. it was bleeding. he dropped it, and for the first time he felt scared.

“what the f…”

and in an instant, he is back to reality, still confused and still startled. and for the sake of omitting what just happened inside his mind, he decided to feed it … you know… read books… books that he love. he was reading the sandman : preludes and nocturns: a hope in hell. where dream went down to hell to retrieve his stolen pouch of sand from an unknown demon. and then one line from the novel caught yukio’s eyes, when dream said:

“the wood of suicides has changed since my last visit to hell. i remember it as a tiny grove. now it resembles a forest.”

“a forest.” he repeated. “that’s odd… i just thought of it.”

yukio didn’t understand this. he didn’t perceive and recognize the meaning of the metaphor between the trees and the humans. he didn’t get it. and i don’t think he never will.

then i woke up. wow it was one odd dream. i have some “yukio” inside my head who also has someone on his head. i can’t help it but investigate and scrutinize ala nancy drew … modernized of course. i googled it, and typed in “metaphor of trees to life”. the results were boring. specifically the one that said:

“trees grow. humans grow. in order for it to grow, it needs sunlight, earth, water, air.”

what could have been more tedius than that?

then i saw this:

“in life the only way of the relief of suffering was through pain (i.e. suicide) and in hell, the only form of relief of the suffering is through pain (breaking of the limbs to bleed).”

now that’s stimulating. i’ve read this before. oh yes. i’ve read it before … i’ve read it before. i know this… by heart… when i was still in junior high… specifically world literature - the middle circle of hell. i knew it! but who is yukio? i googled him and as expected, the keyword is too general. and i found a better way to do the online search, “yukio suicide” and the results were astounding.

pretty cool! i have someone inside my head who committed suicide. and yukio had someone inside his head who committed suicide too. does that mean … i’ll end up in the same circle of hell as he did? hmmm… i wondered… is he cute?

it all started with curiousity and sto. niño

Posted on | September 12, 2008 | 2 Comments

erin was a boring kid. her playmates are just her imaginary friends and her toys are the toys of her imaginary friends. 7 year old girls like to play dolls, play foods, and play like they are mothers and wives. but not erin. erin was a loner. she played like a dead child. you can’t feel any emotions from her unless you have the time to extract her.

one day, she was playing with her three imaginary friends in the backyard when she noticed a window above the ground. it was the big white house that she’s always amazed with. it seemed like an underground room but it really didn’t matter for her. she was just a child. she just wanted to take a peek.

slowly she crept until she reached the window border. then there was a blank silence and a deadly curiosity. she can’t really see through the window because there’s a black thing blocking her thirsty eyes. and that black thing is actually the head of a sto. niño. it didn’t matter, her curiosity was getting intense and she really wanted to sneak.

little by little she flattened her face to the window glass. her eye balls were rolling …

the head turned around and stared at her. it was angry!

poor erin she didn’t know what to do. she was stuck in a moment. and then she ran. ran as fast as she can. ran as far as she can. and forget everything what happened… but she can’t.

when i’m sad - i’m happy. but when i’m happy - i’m sad

Posted on | September 11, 2008 | No Comments

tears.
nobody knows what kind of tears you leak from your eyes.
tears of joy, or tears of pain.
whatever it is, your eyes still bleed

smile.
nobody knows what kind of smile you project from your face.
smile of smiles, or smile of sarcasm.
whatever it is, it’s obvious in your eyes.

me.
things just keep on confusing me.
it’s like almost everything is the irony of something.

help.
i need something to remind me that i am real and i am not a fictional character
from neil gaiman’s novels.
i need someone to remind me that people still cares for me as much as i care for them.

time.
we can’t turn back the hands of time
but we can still repeat histories.

senses.
sight, smell, hear, taste and touch.
you can still live without having the complete set.

happy.
it’s sad.
whatever you do and how many times you laugh,
you know it’s just not enough.

sad.
it’s happy.
whatever you do and how many times you cry and frown,
you know it’s all real.

i’m happy.

please bury the undead

Posted on | September 11, 2008 | No Comments

i think i am the most hardworking person that i know of. really. i am working so hard for the sake of my family, my cats and myself. i’ve been working for almost 5 years now and i am proud that i’ve achieved so much at the age of 25. i started working while studying at 20 and i’ve been a supervisor since i was 22. i’ve bought numerous mobile phones, provided gifts for my family, nourished my cats and feed them 3x a day, bought a car, currently paying my family’s apartment rent and other monthly dues. (it feels like i already have a family of my own.)

but -

i think i am the most useless person that i know of. yes i am working for my family, my cats and myself but i am not thinking or planning anything for my future. i’ve been working for almost 5 years now and still have no savings. i’ve experienced promotions and salary increases but i am still living my lifestyle -
cig, booze, shop and eat.

yet -

i think i am …

tired now.

the magic behind the number 69

Posted on | September 11, 2008 | No Comments

the number 69 is often interpreted something as a connection to the kama sutra. it actually is but for me, it feels like there’s a magic behind it.

when somebody in the office is serious and down, just ym him/her “69?, and it’ll erase whatever it is that you feel negatively inside.

suddenly you’ll burst in to laughter. suddenly you’re happy.

and in that moment of extreme chuckle,
you realized that you have friends… cheering you up.

the de minimis rule

Posted on | September 11, 2008 | No Comments

funny how people gets easily irritated with me.
especially when i speak my mind.
i don’t speak that much you know?
but when i do, it’s gotta be sensible.
because i’m a logical type of person.
but anyway as rhett butler said “frankly, my dear, i don’t give a damn.”

what’s in me that you are so insecure about?
is it my words?
how i speak my words?
or how i act my words?

i’m not perfect.
i’m just responsible.
i’m not intelligent.
i’m just reasonable.

there’s a lot more in this world than to feel jealous.
and compose your never ending anger journal.
you can never move on with your life if you are stuck in the mud of your own nameless guilt.

i understand how you feel.
it’s how you write that i don’t.

identify yourself, bitch

Posted on | September 11, 2008 | No Comments

i have a dark heart and a crooked mind.
i think extra, i speak less and i write best.
i impose individuality and never was never am and never will be afraid to be different.
i am hypersensitive to the social norms and i don’t fit your culture category.

i posses a lot of flaws.
i’ve committed tons of mistakes.
i’ve told innumerable lies.
i am a perfect defect of human host imperfection.

yet, i still live with this monotonous pilgrimage of undying boredom.
i love animals and i don’t mind you calling me one.
and i keep making my life as interesting as possible.

i remembered childhood…
oops i can’t remember anything.

i remembered elementary school days…
i was nothing and i felt downcasted.
but my skills in writing helped me boost a bit of confidence
and i won a scriptwriting activity.

i remembered high school…
they said i was nothing but just a pretty face.
but hey i won biology, chemistry and english quiz bees.
i was even the school paper’s literary editor and the alumni secretary.

then i remembered college…
tough. i was the obvious outsider.
but even if i rebelled, i rebelled intellectually.
and even won a teacher’s heart.

then there’s the call center days.
i didn’t finish college which made me feel uncomfortable.
but even with the lack of academic education, i gained friendship.
and a photo album to preserve life time memories.

so what does those mean?
… even when the world doesn’t approve of you,
you still have your self, your own mind and your skills to make a difference.

i made a statement and i am going to live by it.

in chemistry, there’s the mixture and there’s the substance.
it’s a complete analogy of who i am in this world… a substantial bitch.

yeah i’m a bitch, so what? does that make you fake? or you’re just naturally insecure?

-M-

her fingers write the words from her head. and inside her head inhabits the voices. and the voices provide her sad ideas.

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