Leaking

Love that is going to quench my thirst
have I so slowly, painstakingly drawn
from the dying creek of your soul
with only this dipper of a heart
which is too cracked to hold it
long enough to drink and be saved

Kuris Kuris

Puso. Paperweight sa lahat ng love letters na hindi naman ipinadala. Waste of time, ink, words, space, puso. Oo, waste of puso. Pati na rin 'to. Di makasulat ng tama sa blog. Waiting for replies on Facebook Chat. Wala. Cliche talk lahat. Lonely. Gutom. Ayaw pumunta ng McDo. Walang audio ang pc. Ihip ng mga magagandang plano for the future nadarama pero hindi madinig sa utak. Bakit parang walang koneksyon sa puso? Ano nga ba ang nangyari sayo, Hijo? Ewan ko lang. Too big for words. Too simple for the conscience.

The State of My Mind at the Moment

is a calm chaos

nothing driftwood on a dark raging sea,
moonlight streaming through a crumbling haunted house,
a long-ago promise of Love churning inside this broken Heart

On What Makes One Possessive

Kurt: What makes one possessive?
Jeprox: Belief in all the good things makes one possessive.

Ugly Truth Be Told

--whoever said Love begets forever suns was kidding alright

--what do i do with this heart refusing to die the easy way?

--pins of Hope i pull out of my chest as i sing your name tri-syllabic melodic catastrophic... the lifetimes pass by the minute and i had lost count

--it's only a matter of time before i convince myself that i hate you fiercely and irrevocably and to remain in your life like this is to despise the power and magic and logic of what i am meant to be

--i must not give in to that vulnerable voice inside asking whether you love me or not; i must smother that voice 'til it can cry no more

--how do i remain as your friend when my core is crumbling in pain which mere friendship could not heal?

--one more bridge to burn, one more Regret to live life by

--i do not know how long i can hold on to you

--the e-mails will stop; the poetry will run out; the void will awaken for so long

--the choices that we make no matter how messed up are the choices that define who we are and what we want to be

--i want to be: scarred soul resigned to Pain

You, Romantic One

You, romantic one. You are made of fire, silver and pure and raging and vulnerable to rain. The gods of Love will have their wrath raining on you. They despise you so for being true and defiant and eternally hopeful against all odds. Though you know for a fact that Hope can kill you as easily as a waterfall's brutal kiss, you welcome it, bed with it, waken to find the stark cold mornings with it. Though you know you are doomed to a life of painful questions and the even more painful seeking for the answers, you go on with each awful minute stepping into the hurting little hour of need, and want, to be heard, to be seen and felt, to be loved as truly and deeply as the ways of the Universe could ever allow. But this is all that there is to you--this multifacetedness birthed by Pain and Bliss of being so gloriously different in a way that makes you relate to almost anything that exists in the realm of the human condition. No conditions necessary, you brave the world, even if your courage comes across as cowardice to most of its people, because right from the beginning that's the only thing they deemed you capable of manifesting. For all your beauty, you will be seen as broken. For all your Love you will be considered ungrateful. For all your innocence, you will be sentenced gulity. And beyond any shadow of doubt, yours will be the last and hardest and sweetest of tears. Amen.

Sa Laot ng Kaluluwang Desperado

nais kung matanto
ang lalim ng pusong ito
na pinuno mo
ng mga nanaginip na talang

magigising at magigising din
sa katotohanang
hindi sapat ang pagsisinungaling
sa sarili't sapilitang paglimot
sa iyo upang puksain

ang kaluluwang nagmamahal
kahit na nasasakal