There was never a time when I thought you'd do it. More so under those circumstances -- those circumstances when our ropes and our holds had suddenly thinned out, had become ripping threads and had clipped tremblingly.
It might have been a petty act of child's play, a misdemeanor, a lapse of reason -- but it was not. To you, it was nothing -- but to me, it was everything.
The pact we had forged wallowed in despair -- slowly, slowly, slowly -- until the cries had turned to whispers so helpless against the screaming silence.
For many hours and for random long seconds of every day after, glimpses of what happened haunt me. Though I tried not to think of it, suppression caused more wounds. The scars, though as brown as the drought of the soil, watered occasionally: dropping, stopping, and scattering again and again. The thirst could not be quenched.
But like the sun that continuously fainted with the advancing hours but always and unfailingly came up with dawns, I chose -- or have chosen -- to be reborn in your womb where the persistence of my breathing lingered.
I had to untangle the spins of the threads.
I had to tame the trembling of my hand that had once so peacefully rested on your palm.
I had to be convinced again that we had to live -- together.
I had to.
I had to.
Then, you looked in my eyes. I was sitting there, a meter away from where you were. The facade of a strong and fearless lover were the pretense of your eyes while mine were of a retreating and discouraged one's.
Our ground was shaking... then it stopped.
I looked again into your eyes which hours ago screamed waters of regret. They were now peaceful. There was just the muted plea, the implication too obvious for words.
I tried to speak but the air was full.
I was too weak to let go for I was too strong to stay.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
1: 57 AM
At this very moment, I may not be as sober as any man who hasn't had the inkling of the wonders of intoxication, but I still know -- completely and doubtlessly -- that I have what I have for you even if the vigilance and the discipline of the mind have tentatively gone astray.
You are that fragment of air that whispers into my oblivion and then turns into a mass of wind that blows me away and makes me fly -- highly, oh so highly. :)
You are that fragment of air that whispers into my oblivion and then turns into a mass of wind that blows me away and makes me fly -- highly, oh so highly. :)
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Always
5 months ago, the life I once -- or infinitely -- thought I'd always have unexpectedly took a turn. It was a detour I exceedingly longed to take for almost three years but frustratingly failed to commence. Indeed, so suddenly and unbelievably, I felt I was no longer petrified. It was as if an incantation that turned me to stone had lost its curse and made me human again.
Without anticipation, the seeming sanctuary of numbness I inhabited for many months had foregone its meaning: I was moving. My eyes were not shuttering anymore; they were awakening. My lips began shedding the thirst that once plagued their surfaces and conspicuously revealed the movement of their innate purpose: to smile. I was smiling -- finally and once again.
I was happy and I knew I was not lying.
For many days, I knew I was in a different world. It was so deviant from that place I forcibly introduced myself to almost three years ago that there were days I thought I was afloat, swimming in an illusion I myself insanely crafted, such as that one mirror mentioned in the first Harry Potter installment which deceivingly showed one's desires.
"This isn't real, this isn't real, " I told myself, as if pinching my skin persistently.
But it was... and it still is.
Now, despite everything that I -- we -- have gone through, our world remains real.
With the 5 we've got in hand, I can say without any fragment of a quiver that we've remarkably and gratefully passed through hurdles that almost stopped us from getting this far.
There was the definitive revelation that almost struck us with a beating too strong for pacifying but which -- after months of uneasy struggle-- we managed to tame. Then, came the constant criticisms or gossip allegedly from varied and countless sources, throwing us words and intents like rocks wounding us without fail.
Yet and so blessedly, we persevered. We're still here, still breathing and beaming.
Today again adds another mark to that pact we have forged. It is an agreement with neither any express or implied obligation, nor any stipulation innately compulsory, nor any clause dutifully coercive -- for there is no space for such; there is only the desire, the want and the need for you... for I love you.
Always. :)
Without anticipation, the seeming sanctuary of numbness I inhabited for many months had foregone its meaning: I was moving. My eyes were not shuttering anymore; they were awakening. My lips began shedding the thirst that once plagued their surfaces and conspicuously revealed the movement of their innate purpose: to smile. I was smiling -- finally and once again.
I was happy and I knew I was not lying.
For many days, I knew I was in a different world. It was so deviant from that place I forcibly introduced myself to almost three years ago that there were days I thought I was afloat, swimming in an illusion I myself insanely crafted, such as that one mirror mentioned in the first Harry Potter installment which deceivingly showed one's desires.
"This isn't real, this isn't real, " I told myself, as if pinching my skin persistently.
But it was... and it still is.
Now, despite everything that I -- we -- have gone through, our world remains real.
With the 5 we've got in hand, I can say without any fragment of a quiver that we've remarkably and gratefully passed through hurdles that almost stopped us from getting this far.
There was the definitive revelation that almost struck us with a beating too strong for pacifying but which -- after months of uneasy struggle-- we managed to tame. Then, came the constant criticisms or gossip allegedly from varied and countless sources, throwing us words and intents like rocks wounding us without fail.
Yet and so blessedly, we persevered. We're still here, still breathing and beaming.
Today again adds another mark to that pact we have forged. It is an agreement with neither any express or implied obligation, nor any stipulation innately compulsory, nor any clause dutifully coercive -- for there is no space for such; there is only the desire, the want and the need for you... for I love you.
Always. :)
Friday, October 9, 2009
Us and Them
One by one, they came like lightning, supremely illuminated at the outset. Then, after petrified seconds -- the light withering and the veil sifting through the founded dimness -- sounds deafening hounded the now dead stillness of our ears.
The persistence of sound echoed.
Still, one by one, waters went running down against us.
Running, scampering and panicking.
Forcing, aiming, hurling and persisting.
Drenching.
The waters seemed like rocks.
They were throwing rocks at us.
One, two, three... there were too many.
But we didn't mind.
We don't mind.
We won't mind.
They're just rocks -- we're steel.
The persistence of sound echoed.
Still, one by one, waters went running down against us.
Running, scampering and panicking.
Forcing, aiming, hurling and persisting.
Drenching.
The waters seemed like rocks.
They were throwing rocks at us.
One, two, three... there were too many.
But we didn't mind.
We don't mind.
We won't mind.
They're just rocks -- we're steel.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Bizarre Cardiac Triad
Today, my world has started to whisper anew.
With the awakening silence, voices have begun to scramble, threatening and pointing auditory knives on my skin.
A love from someone I haven't thought existed has finally come out of its velvet cover and mercilessly pounded like stones on my veiled complacency. Though with no intention of injury, my easy words and worldly stares at him have drawn bruises on his face and eroded the bumps on his lips. He has been there, waiting and anticipating nothing. No plea of reciprocity, no yeas, no nothing. He knows I am with someone I have been loving, yearning and keeping -- Potter, my Potter...
Yet, he's still there. Still him, still there -- with nothing but vulnerability and the burden of imminence of defeat.
I'm sorry.
With the awakening silence, voices have begun to scramble, threatening and pointing auditory knives on my skin.
A love from someone I haven't thought existed has finally come out of its velvet cover and mercilessly pounded like stones on my veiled complacency. Though with no intention of injury, my easy words and worldly stares at him have drawn bruises on his face and eroded the bumps on his lips. He has been there, waiting and anticipating nothing. No plea of reciprocity, no yeas, no nothing. He knows I am with someone I have been loving, yearning and keeping -- Potter, my Potter...
Yet, he's still there. Still him, still there -- with nothing but vulnerability and the burden of imminence of defeat.
I'm sorry.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
For H. Potter
for many days, i waited. the clock didn't stop moving.
tick, tick, tick.
my eyes, once falling, gradually dried and were then cracking.
my feet were stuck on the ground, with neither ropes nor chains.
and, my hands -- my hands -- were just mine, just mine.
days then turned into mornings -- hundreds of them.
with the settling of the sun, the mornings died and the days grew.
there were then years and nights -- now, in thousands.
with the black and the gray, the crickets sang their songs...
and the dew from the fog dropped their tears into lullabies -- but i couldn't sleep still.
drop, drop, drop.
yet, i still waited.
waited, waited and waited.
nothing still.
... then i got tired.
no, i got weary, but i wasn't tired.
i never could be.
tick, tick, tick.
my eyes were still there -- dismal, desolate, bleak, but still unhesitating.
i looked at my feet and my hands. they were motionless.
the veins that etched their surfaces still throbbed but I felt they were just playing dead sounds.
i was starting to unease my struggle and to finally give up the wait.
drop, drop, drop.
without warning, holes started appearing out of nowhere, piercing the darkness that seemed to have dwelt on the void for ages, like sirens shrieking, as if announcing the demise of the once lingering and persistent dormancy.
it was morning.
a new backdrop was set.
but, i was still in my pajamas...
and the milk, which had been on the table for years, was still warm.
what was happening?
although the morn had with it the prevalence of light,
the familiarity of solace,
the smell of yellow,
and the imminence of beginnings,
there was something different this time.
there was more.
i knew there was.
finally, i opened my eyes. now, fully.
i moved my feet and stood up.
and my hands -- my hands -- were no longer mine alone anymore.
The standstill was over
-- because in front of me, you were there.
tick, tick, tick.
my eyes, once falling, gradually dried and were then cracking.
my feet were stuck on the ground, with neither ropes nor chains.
and, my hands -- my hands -- were just mine, just mine.
days then turned into mornings -- hundreds of them.
with the settling of the sun, the mornings died and the days grew.
there were then years and nights -- now, in thousands.
with the black and the gray, the crickets sang their songs...
and the dew from the fog dropped their tears into lullabies -- but i couldn't sleep still.
drop, drop, drop.
yet, i still waited.
waited, waited and waited.
nothing still.
... then i got tired.
no, i got weary, but i wasn't tired.
i never could be.
tick, tick, tick.
my eyes were still there -- dismal, desolate, bleak, but still unhesitating.
i looked at my feet and my hands. they were motionless.
the veins that etched their surfaces still throbbed but I felt they were just playing dead sounds.
i was starting to unease my struggle and to finally give up the wait.
drop, drop, drop.
without warning, holes started appearing out of nowhere, piercing the darkness that seemed to have dwelt on the void for ages, like sirens shrieking, as if announcing the demise of the once lingering and persistent dormancy.
it was morning.
a new backdrop was set.
but, i was still in my pajamas...
and the milk, which had been on the table for years, was still warm.
what was happening?
although the morn had with it the prevalence of light,
the familiarity of solace,
the smell of yellow,
and the imminence of beginnings,
there was something different this time.
there was more.
i knew there was.
finally, i opened my eyes. now, fully.
i moved my feet and stood up.
and my hands -- my hands -- were no longer mine alone anymore.
The standstill was over
-- because in front of me, you were there.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Ladies & Gents, Another Ranting Post
It's already April. In fact, it's the 20th. I'm late.
I've been stuck at home since October last year and I think my leash has only been tightened more. I can't even get an effing cheap green tea at a coffee shop (ironically) without having myself assassinated by my parents.
Uhm, wait, that was my problem months ago. Now, I've got far bigger problems at hand.
I don't want to be too specific anymore about such because I may just end up being a shrink's stupid dustbin (yes, reader, you're the psychologist).
To give you just a blind eagle's eye view, here are the rants: 1) I want a room -- a sanctuary -- to tentatively take me away from anything familial or distracting; 2) I've got to regain even a quarter of my eager beaver self as soon as possible; 3) I need to graduate and get these pre-graduation activities over with so that I can finally place my focus in its proper dwelling; and 4) I need a 24-hour body aircon! ("Ineeeet!!!" is an understatement!)
Very unfortunately, I've got to do STILL what I had been doing since the time I discovered where babies came from: WAIT. In a nutshell: a week at most for my room and for graduation; and God-knows-when for my personification-inspired revival -- and for my body refrigerator.
Boohoo.
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