Linggo, Marso 16, 2014


minsang sumakay ako ng jeep ng me pumarang isang lalakeng estudyante, tantsa ko mga 17-18 yrs old moreno kaya medyo cute xa. me dala xang gitara  ̶aba, rakista itwu! sa isip ko..

tiningnan ko xa ng mabuti, cute pala xa..
gustong-gusto ko pa naman ang mga ganyang paminsan-minsang sumusulyap xa sa direksyon ko at ako naman pag pansin kong di xa nakaharap, sumusulyap-sulyap din.. mahinhin lang ang peg.
behaved ako ng mga panahaong ‘yon kasi heartbroken ako medyo depressed lang
ang bangs.

nagvibrate ang fone ko kaya't kinuha ko ito sa bag: "musta ka na?" ang sabi sa text.
hindi na ako nagreply. useless rin naman.
nalungkot ako bigla nang

you tell you're in-love with me
like you can't take your pretty eyes
away from me
it's not that i don't want to stay
but every time you come too close
i move away

i wanna believe in everything that you say
'cause it sounds so good
but if you really want me, move slow
there are things about me
you just have to know..

sometimes i run
sometimes i hide
sometimes i'm sc..


nag-blush xa at dali dali niyang kinuha ang cellfone niyang tumutunog na pala at binasa ang text. nakayuko.

di ko napigilan
kahit dapat akong malungkot sa mga panahong ‘yon natawa na lang ako
ng tahimik.

sabi ko na nga ba,


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3 people were wheeling a white-draped form to a room which is indistinctly marked with disarrayed characters baffling my already blurred vision.. i rose to loiter around from where i was laid then gently glided on a white marbled hall; it didn’t appear like home but it was home. the untainted white of the entire room gave me a feel of sterility; shivers running from my cold feet to every inch of my veins, my muscles, and bones. 

i then drifted to the kitchen where i used to linger steering to the probes, knocking on the forceps and lancets; smelling on the shelf the condiments where the sharp odor of the vinegar got into my nose: i hated the smell of vinegar. i then was whirled suddenly away into the sea of paper boats and was left standing in the middle where my feet buried to the ankles on a heap of withered  foliage. i can’t feel myself.

the richness of silence amplified into tranquility tangled in strands left on the fittings, submerged in the quiet of night blowing, with every single slumbering ear listening to its hum beneath the pale yellow swathe draping, encasing every dream.

someone‘s lying on my bed and i see him when i wake obscured in a reverie of stitching together the imagery caught in this subliminal awareness, and all the sensations that are starting to build are spanning in-between the gaps of time’s ticking over me and the breathing stationary life around.. the hours are chanted like poetry from which the power of quiet words is potent and deep convincing and commanding the universe accordingly, pealing in an inaudible sound with a compelling call, hurled in a chorus then littered to the sky like stars cast so delightfully in their multitudes filling the portions of the dark heavens. 

my desires torched my clouded thoughts illuminating my bare footsteps as i strode to the infinite lane to perpetuity; the ambiguity & oblivion of knitting together the impossible and broken like i thought i knew, but little; chasing the trail of the elusive arduous yearning that’s been long ached to fondle...

but the butterflies inside my gut in thousands tied like kites lifted me from where the moment i was, floating around and up to my ruminations & musings escaping from my attention, uplifting and pleasing to the heart, shuddering; there but to be muffled sooner than it lingered. those desires left unsung through all the years, and i be not remembered, forever..

“hey, anybody awake?…”, my voice from the surreal wilderness rippled through the neighborhood homes nearby.

my deduced awareness slid its way into the impenetrable, intertwining vagueness where there it remained on the rough barks of trees. the howl of the night whispering from the boughs then slithering in each hairline gap on the walls and the narrow slits of every door and window, squeezing through to my bedroom where i am there but not there. the pungent smell of vinegar’s still in my nose and my feet, cold.

then i was brought back to bed, alone still stitching pleasant dreams to hold together mending the broken through the years, awaking betimes to journey forth before daylight; contemplations blew off to great billows poured from a chimney..conceived then unfolds to how long it stood in the thoughts down deep, in the dreaming, the ruminating; paving an exit to a will-be sun-bathed and air-breathed shining of the new day’s glint from the shadowy expanse of those elongated years, and the lengthy lingering darkness of the nights past.

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