city hall time, 18:20

Often do we find ourselves looking for things to amaze us
For things so rarely beautiful that it haunts our deepest passions
Lusting for joy and craving for it most evidently
Searching for things that would caress your deepest senses
As if introducing pain and love, and depriving it, too, at the same time
Even instantly.
We soak ourselves in calmness and ecstasy
Trying to bring back days immemorial
Trying to live with both suicide and immortality
And to find the art of beautiful comfort in sadness?
I doubt anyone can try any more harder.

snapped ginger

once again you spend your day dreaming about fairies from a not-so-distant land
of rainy thursday afternoons and warm cacao
of where things would take you,
or where they'd bring you back
of purple inks and black parchment
of sling bags and shooting stars
of brown paper bag memories and yellow brick road destinations
uncertain whether you would want again or not to wake up with the same nostalgic sigh.

preliminary oranges

Sometimes you just get too tired from several
things that's supposedly happening and functioning
well. Things put in rather nicely.

You get shards from every little thing that you do.
You get crazy - happy and wawawa from things
that make you dizzy, and feel ridiculous when you
feel like it.

Vicious cycles, whatnot's and several etceteras, on
certain times you just want to take a break, or
perhaps even stop. But then again, what would the
whole point be, anyway?

Between you and me, I’m the happier one.

yellow chucks, sepia mode

if you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, you've got no idea. if you just want to sleep the rest of your story, uncertain still. how can it be a nightmare when it's one of the best dreams you've ever escaped in to? one of your best dreams, you think. yet to wake up without him.. to wake up without him...

then you stare at the moon that tried to cover your tears the night ago. and you look for the star that's supposed to be shining for you, but find the sky half empty.

and twice its feeling do you stand in your drunken past romance.

mandap

nasaktan ba kita?
patawad na.
di ko sinasadyang asarin ka
o bigyan ka ng pasakit.
o gawing makulay ang mundo ni hades para sa'yo.

intindihin mo naman ako.

pakiramdam - alam ko rin naman kung ano un.
at puro poot ang nakabalot na regalo mo.
hindi na ba talaga ako makakaramdam ng pagmamahal mo?
hindi mo man lang ba kakamustahin kung ayos lang ba ang araw ko?
kahit man lang kung gumagana pa ang washing machine ko?

minsan kasi masyado na ngang magulo.
malabo.
pinagsasalita ka, ayaw mo.
pag ako naman ang magpapaliwanag
sinasabayan mo ako.

minsan
o madalas
nababastos kita.
naisasantabi ko kung sino ka.
ang dignidad mo, napapaanod ko nlng bigla.
nang walang pasin-tabi,
walang pakundangan.

napapahiya kita.
nasasaktan.

pasensiya na talaga.
maayos rin natin ito.
ano bang magagawa ko para maibsan man lang
ang dusa na naidulot ko sa'yo?
sapat na ba ang
uno?

***

epilogue
wishful (o delusional) thinking, ito ay tula para sa'kin gawa ng mga butihin kong propesor at propesora