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I'm bored.

And I have this theory:

Boredom is not the absence of activity - it is the absence of the ability to choose a certain activity. Not option paralysis, more of the willingness to be paralyzed.

I'm sedated and my mind's not functioning.

OA. Sore eyes lang yan.

My eyes are trying to take control of my body.

I have a pair of jealous eyes. They want me to see them and them alone, and they only want to see me and me alone. Now they're driving people away. They want other people to be mad at me for staying near them. They want me not to go to work. They're crying for my attention, wanting me to attend to every need of theirs. Their allies are engulfing every matter that try to rape them both.

Now one by one my body parts are disintegrating.

Having eyes that are so spoiled, they're beginning to rot.

I'm beginning to rot.

Nightmares. Can't go back to sleep. Scared.

Lots of dogs, wanting and waiting to rip my body; several street kids who look like Japanese dolls, asking for things inside my pocket - as if they know everything in there; several old trees that resemble those from Alice in Wonderland; and some white "gas" that looks like some twisted wire, like those that bind your spring notebooks, ready to take over my body.

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Ring. Ring.

The oh-so-familiar voice is there again.

Hunting.

Trying to trick you.

Trying to grab your wits.

A bunch of codes then..

She's in.

There you are, hating her. But then again you can't do anything but obey every single command of hers. Every second you get shaky, as if she'll consume you if you haven't provided her with all her needs.

More than consume, actually.

You can't help but be manipulated by the sort of unseen speaker. Even extra careful with the words you're about to say.

You want the conversation to be over, and the least thing that you want to happen is for her to be mad.

No.

You wouldn't want that.

Alas.

"Would there be anything else, Ms. Clinton?"

"Nahh. That's it."

Click.

Several minutes past four in the morning. Last Saturday of May.

Then she's gone.

And damn.

Would you miss her so.

ode to the ro

Pilit tinatakpan
Pumanaw na hagikgik
‘Di sadiyang naitapon
Balot ng belong itim

Tulirong mga mata
Ipinako sa tabi
Sa lilang yelo
Pilit hinahanapan ng init

Ulirat na walang maliw na tumatakbo
Yakap sa balabal na hindi alam kung kailan huhubarin
(Gusto nga bang hubarin, bangkay na payaso?)
Lumilipad sa kahapon
At sa mga maaring sana naging

Umaasang magising sa isang katotohanan
Na kaya mo nang yakapin.

just when i was leaving the salon

Yeah, I feel the same way.

one time big time (bago pumunta sa up fair)

Mahal kita.

At kahit ilang ulit, ilang tanong, pagbalibaligatrin man nila ako eh yan lang masasabi ko.

Mahal kita.

Ang kulit kung pano tayo nagkakilala. Pano nagkita. pano naging.. ganito.

Mahal kita.

Hindi ko alam kung kailan naging ganito ang situasyon. hindi ko alam kung titigil ako sa pagiging ganito. Hindi ko alam kung tadhana nga bang matatawag o sadiyang napaglaruan lang ng panahon, ng situasyon, o ni Bathala. Pero ito, pinaniniwalaan ko ito..

Mahal kita.

At kahit ilan pa siguro ang mag-rebuke sa'kin na hindi ko naman talaga naiintindihan kung bakit, ito lang ang masasabi ko at ito pa rin ang paulit-ulit na sasabihin ko.

Mahal kita.

Ganu'n ka-simple. Ganu'n kadali.

Ganu'n nga ba?

Kaya lang naman nagiging komplikado ang mga bagay bagay eh dahil rin do'n.. Dahil kung hindi kita mahal, kung ano-ano na siguro nagawa ko. Simple lang siguro ang mga bagay-bagay.

Mahal kita.

Pero malamang mas mahal ko Siya.

Mas mahal mo rin Siya.

At isa iyon sa mga dahilan kung bakit hahayaan ko ang sarili ko na mahalin ka.

musings of a (non-)cigarette smoking (wo)man

It's already 2 in the morning. I'm frigging awake. Parasitology class starts at 7. Now I'm just another mindless zombie lulled to wake. I hate this. I hate wanting to want to sleep. I hate having to have to sleep.

Darn it.

Jan 17, '07 11:01 PM

Grab my wrist and slit it there
Took Your blood, did not let it stare
Made it shout
Allow I feel
I’ll guard my heart
Purify for Thee
Do the lead and see me through
Drain me down
Clean me up
Stitch me, please, once more anew.

Jan 17, '07 12:50 PM

All hallucinations let them cease,
For darkest music is lull to my ear.
Whatever is true, allow it to un-blind me.
The dance of tragedy seems poetic, You see.
Spare me again from the lion’s den,
Return my breath, for this I can’t bear.
Once more my death here I lay,
Push me forth away that lovely grave.