Fate burns my brigdes, I am stuck.
I am left with a despeate heart,
Ambling at the point of no turn-backs.

Walking through these specks of dust,
I watch the sparkles of lights fade.
Sanity came.
I am actually lured in unfamiliar pavements.

My goal now is to catch a dapple crumb of light
To grasp the brightness I've never even seen.
I'm there, almost there, and returning is impossible.
Just another step, another step.

Almost there, but a rifle has shot me.

By a hair's-breadth, I am there.
I almost embraced that sparkle of light.
But then again, the rifle came along.
A gammy leg, that's all I have now.

Some parts were crossed out due to the anxiety of revealing too much.

These past few days have been pretty uncanny. These are the perfect times when I’m betting that my Kuya would sing me this particular line from his song: “ngunit sadyang ganyan lang ang pag-ibig, puso mo’y mayrong sariling isip..”

I was already going though some old stuff in my room when I realized that it wasn’t really a good idea. My simple plans in wanting to get rid of some junk were held to a pause when I found more than a handful of things that subtly moved my unconscious mind, and tawdrily brought in those what-ifs and what-if-nots. It was totally befuddling; I’ve always thought that I had given my chances and reveries away. And for the nth time, a movie plays in my mind, the story of the life I had lived—when he was beside me. Then I went on thinking, I never supposed that a little urge of shift-shaping my bedroom would aftermath an unexpected yet pathetic reminiscing.

It was more of a curse—seemed like fate has been pulling my leg again. It wasn’t funny; it was rather deluding. I hate that feeling of walking on sunshine and ending up on the other side of the rainbow, where light had seemingly been trapped in a little canister before me. Even so, that giddy-good feeling had pulled the wool over my eyes again, allowing me to see the other face of the coin.

I was still ogling on that box of stuff in front of me when I read an excerpt of a letter he sent me. Here goes:

You’ve always been there for me. Every time I seem to have my back turned, you’re always there to watch it. It wouldn’t matter what would happen to you, you’d still stick up for me whatever the circumstance may be. My guiding star at night, my smile amidst all the frowns. Coming home from a tiring and disappointing day from school, you don’t know how much it means to me that you text. Even for just a fraction of a second, I am relieved. I wish I could show you how much gratitude I owe you, but I can’t. It’s too hard. I told you once before right? Your presence is relieving. Believe me, it is. Whenever we’re at the mall, walking, no matter how long nor how quiet we are, makes me feel really good inside, because I know that I’m walking with someone like you. In the movies, you might not notice it, but inching nearer and nearer you is a habit, being so close to you just seems to make me forget all my problems. You soothe my soul.

I never continued reading. My eyes were already getting groggy from the sight before me. I cannot believe how I almost forgot that woozy feeling of being swept off my feet, breaking into songs in the middle of nothing, and smiling for completely no reason at all. I practically felt like laughing at myself while recalling these moments of bliss. I just couldn’t imagine how my mind had forgotten the power of his presence that had been potent enough to move my mountains alongside each other and even resort to building valleys in between them.

Rawr, I’m sounding too wretched, pathetic.

I just hate the way I had allowed myself to intake a brutal breathing. And though the hisses of my past and the ambiguity of my upcoming, amalgamated with the ricochets of my present resurface, I persist to still be carefree. These haunting recollections are inevitable parts of me.

Spend ten years waiting
While the whole world’s spinning
While the spirits soaring
While the eagles laughing
They mock you, they haunt you
But you don’t seem to give a damn

The ceiling’s about to fly now
The shadows begin to flutter
The wind has already settled
Still you stand motionless on that dirty floor

*Don’t you wanna speak up
Don’t you wanna groove
Don’t you wanna at least move
Don’t you wanna go around that angry whirlpool
If you don’t take a step, you wouldn’t cross that mile
Don’t let them all pass you by

Go on, take breaths and move free
Who knows who that somebody you could be
I know you wanna shine too..
Hey, don’t let the sun fall on you


>>the 5th song i composed. blech, counting.

no more lies.
no more fantasies.
reality haunts me,
--the daemon in my slumber.

i pray to the vague heaven..
i sit under septuagenarian trees
still--
shrinking to believe
if thou still waits for me

i've seeked fulfillment in thoust promises,
sapient heavens amidst nonetheless.
thou isn't here..
and when i hold on to truth,
i live by fallacies..
..i dwell in sorrowful, mystic bliss.

lost in a chamber of chimeras,
where delight isn't welcomed..
i am vexed to perplexity..
that as may be,
i shall not complain to thee..

My ego--- completely ripped, cleaved.
As things that remind me of you
Bulge across my face-
A voice speaks to me from far behind,
"No, you wouldn't cry.."

PRIDE.---the element that is left in
our hearts..
it was so strong;
yet so incontestable.
Through these years
We've been falling and failing..
Memories are all that's left to be recalled.
------only memories.

But US,
We are completely left behind.
We are omitted unintentionally.
We are consigned to oblivion,
We are forgotten.
Now our ears are tired from all the mocking,
Our eyes so red and sore.
Our hearts too wearied from all the hurting,
Our minds, exhausted in blur.

So let bygones be bygones.
We've now been falling apart.
Goodbye to those precious memories
Left inside this dolorous heart.

Your presence may linger still,
Yes I may be waiting in the wings.
You have separated me from my sanity,
And left me in melancholy.
It hurt—oh so much.
Yet a voice speaks to me from far behind-------
"No, you wouldn't cry.."

bright sky turns into puddles of tears
grayscale visions seemingly appear
bleakness gathers.
anticipating
waiting
trapped is this formidable vintage ideology
where black and white blend indivisibly

changes ought to occur
while the world is in an exhaustable mist,
an infinite blur.
withering, breaking, changing gestures
parallel to an old woman suffering nefarious tortures.
bleeding,
but still living.

as the roots of this earth just stands up bare
cold, harsh, dark winds gust upon it
as i blankly stare.
magnificent sights of falling colors flare,
i wonder how it feels like to be there

listen.
hear
the hues;
to its sweet, mellow sound.
as they transpire something completely
vague and profound
silence.
the world seems to be so busy
everyone has no time for everybody.
no time for silence.

i pity the hues that alter
to their solemn sound, we just couldn't surrender.
for in that silence lies a sacred noise;
when will we ever try to listen to that whimsical voice?

fire-red, brown, and mystic gold--
the story of the past has just been retold.

fifteen's no age at all.
fifteen is nothing.
it is not acumen, nor fancy light-ups,
not allurement, nor glamour bottles.
not elegance nor beauty
nor grandiloquent gowns and dresses
it is not pompous, nor is it extravagant.
eighteen has its own tribal fashions,
but fifteen--
is neither anything, nor nothing.
it is of unknown authorship.
unacknowledged.

on a ship in the middle of the Pacific,
the world's an infinite blur.
but fifteen sheds no affection.
a wet blanket;
--damned.
anonymous to one and all
anonymous to light
anonymous to all moonshine.

an ocean, nonetheless,
witholds imperfection,
follows no byword.
it smears wishes from a thousand tones,
apocryphal and fabricated.
at this point, fifteen seeks to be blind,
takes up the cudgels on behalf of present circumstances.
fifteen---
--numb.
the one age that DEFEATS the metaphor.
not square, circle, nor rectangle.
but easily encompassed; is no shape.
nor quitted once, can it be quite recalled--
NOT even with PITY.
...an ocean nonetheless.

stars.
luminous celestial bodies,
twinkling:
they listen to me.
my solemn dreams render
i feel the gust of heaven
as these stars light up my entity,
they watch me.
as i bend to the will of the heavens,
i collapse.
i break down.

dreams.
illusions.
holding onto fantasy
begging for light
to glimmer upon my sadistic soul.
as i wipe the tears that rush down my cheeks,
i leave a whole piece of nothing by the pathway.

i am nothing but a forgotten memory,
locked in the depth of heaven's face.
a teardrop dolorously trying to risk luck
lost.
in the roadmap of a whirlpool.

*walalang, this was surprisingly posted in Meg Magazine's Dec2002 ishe. teehee.*

Day and night I find neither rest nor peace. When I sleep, I am disturbed by tormenting dreams in which I see you, always severe, always grave, always incensed against me. Forgive me then, if I adopt the course of writing to you again.. How can I endure life if I make no effort to ease its sufferings..

Now all is gone... All over with and done. Notwithstanding, I’m still here in front of you..

Eventhough you might be the most abstruse person in the world, that I could no longer keep track of the logic of each event coming before me, and eventhough you’ve been such a diabolic element to my ego, not even the thought of turning my back on you has ever walked before me.. Not even once. Please don’t ask why, cause I’ve been asking too. Yes, a lot of times. But due to unfortunate circumstances, the answer I’ve been desperately looking for has been interminably imperceptible.

Now my eyes are dry from all the tears I’ve shed. My vision has been locked in this whirlpool of fire- leaving a movie playing in my eyes.. Flaming, flickering and burning throughout my whole vital force, as it covers the measly space where bright radiance should supposedly enter, and that of which I am unable to see. My mind, poisoned with inevitable parathion, has been too unwelcoming towards every gleam of light. My frivolous heart, tired of running and running around in circles..... following you..... chasing you..... grasping for you..... catching you..... guiding you..... comforting you.....

Different shades of every hue flash across my eyes. The beat of every sound enters my ear. Yet all I can see is you. I see no color, not even black nor white. All I can hear is your voice. I hear no tone, I hear no noise.

Doors inside my head have been bolted from within. Yet every drop of flame still made its way through.. They’ve lit millions of candles. They’ve built a path of light. And since I thought it was the only way to get out of this dark hole I’m in, I followed it. I climbed to the light, I walked the distance, I followed the trail. I did arrive at the other side. I did reach the end of the pathway. But what else could I possibly do? To my surprise, it only led me back to you..
I tried to recede, I tried to move away. I looked back but--But the candles were no longer visible....

Now the candles are gone.
There is no more light...
Bleakness has taken its place before me for the nth time.

And all I can see...

...is your face.

(haha i remember writing this when i was still head over heels over *toot*)

And there you were:
Singing on a heavenly pedestal
Blue dim lights spot,
Like clouds that carry you away in a subliminal whirlpool,
--------------that carry my dreams toward the sun.
Your voice--- haunting my fatal fire,
Chasing my ego,
Mocking my soul,
Running to me,
Calling me..
As I come close to you,
Enchanting, powerful, mystical
Air surrounds my aura
As I take another step,
I am stopped by a bump on a vertical barrier.
...and there you were:
a dream, just a fantasy.
Embracing all that I've hoped for..
Yet enclosed in a formidable glass, of which
...I cannot break.

this duel i cannot fathom.
i've diced with death just to have you.
in defiance of maladjustice, i stayed.
how can i be deluded to such fallacy?
i, as the unarmored victim
hold only my heart as my artificial sword...
that as may be,
it isn't sufficient.

and you--
you are so abstruse.
i've been blind to your cruelty.
and now that i have them in sight,
parathion fills my vision.
as much again, i am sightless---
not only to cruelty.
not only to you,
but to the world;
and to what they call love.