Tag Archives: dream

wanderlust

you are

raindrops

trickling into

my blood

.

the sight of

the new world

after a long

tiring voyage

.

rusty chain links

rattling against

the street youth’s

scuffed shoes

.

five thousand

ways to say

maybe i like

the way you are

.

warm sunset

trapped in

a mason jar

and buried

.

an innocent

kind of swear

the one that

draws a blush

.

the humming

at the back of

a sad song

in b flat minor

.

a ticklish

kind of green

sticky clumps

of feline fur

.

the start of

a good movie

a back-alley

kind of kiss

.

a saturday

forgotten

a leap year

birthday blues

.

argonaut dreams

and cosmic hail

and candle wax

and old poetry

.

you are all

these things

and more, but

you are not

.

h e r e

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Filed under Poetry

Macrocosmic Defiance

Heaven knows that I’m born too late
For these ghosts that I chase
With these dreams, I inflate
Painted skies in my brain
Every day, I’m Carl Sagan in space
To escape this old world

~*~

Lift me up to where the sun hits my eyes just right

Ascending the ardent blurriness of reality itself—

.

Hushed diatribes alongside dug molehills of promises,

Reaching the peak of Everest itself, our still momentum;

The gravity of the situation feels as heavy as lost comets

On the ground, daydreamers with their heads crushed

By nimbus clouds, the senseless thunder that lingered

And threatened to take a strangle at wispy-thin necks

.

Caught in a modern guillotine, but who pulled the twisted rope?

.

So hold my hands and twist my wrists nearly backwards

We shall let the gallows humour simply speak for itself again

And carry every fleeting memory to where it aches—where it matters.

~*~

And when I fall to rise
With stardust in my eyes
In the backbone of night
I’m combustible
Dust in the fire when I can’t sleep
Awake, I’m too tired…

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Filed under Poetry

lamag-lamag (the chase)

habo ko na.

masakiton magparalamag

saimo—an sapatos ko

ralabot asin raraot na

an kaherak na bitis ko puros

na sana lugad, dawa an

baga ko nagkukurulog

asin magabaton nang

marhay, tapos habo mo

man sana akong tawanan

ning hinangos pag ika

nadakop ko na tulos

.

habo ko na.

napapagal na akong marhay

an sakuyang mapapasaon na

tulang, dikit na sana mababari na

gabos—ta paghuna ko baga

pangiturogan sana ini, pero tano ta

nakamuklat pa an sakuyang mga mata?

dawa anong gibuhon ko, ika man

sana an pirming manggagana

sa kahaluyan kong pagparadalagan

nalingawan ko na kung tano ta ika hinahanap

siring ta ika mayo man sakong

maitataong kamurawayan.

i don’t want this anymore.

it’s so difficult to chase

after you—my shoes are

full of holes and damaged,

my poor feet riddled with

wounds, even my chest aches

and is weighed down heavily

and yet you refuse to allow me

some breaths, when i finally

manage to quickly catch you

.

i don’t want this anymore.

i’m getting severely exhausted

my fragile bones are close to

fracturing completely—i thought

that this was just a dream, but then

why are my eyes still wide open?

no matter what i do, you will always

end up winning, and i’ve been running

for so long that i’ve already forgotten

why i’m searching for you

when you will provide me no triumph.

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Filed under Poetry

sadder days

Dirty fingernails, same as your mind
But he can strum the guitar just fine
Every now and then he’d think about his life
Daydreaming just to pass the time…

~*~

today

is one of

those sad days

sadder days

morning grey

feels eclipsed

a ghost in

the window

blocking sunlight

reaching out

impalpable

sadness?

you dream

my darling, of

perhaps life

as you know it

or perhaps

nothing at all

as i pen eulogies

to my name

woe is me, my

dreams have

not been kind

they never were

but i hope

love, that yours

flourishes into

more than

sweet cosmos

and forget-me-nots

and the colour of

lilac i painted

your lips with

a pale afterglow

a subtle adoration

love, pure love

i hope all your

dreams visit you

not only when

you repose

and may they

never fall away

like, i ponder,

all those whose

footsteps have

faded from familiar

halls, missing

from freckles and

constellations

searching

for better days

or bitter days

or both—

they’ll be gone soon

but so will i

and so will you

and so will all

these sad days be

i only wonder

what time brings

for you and me

tomorrow

~*~

Now the sun is closer than it was before
Anyone who’s anyone can feel it
Saturdays are not the same as they used to be
Sadder days, why do they keep on using me?

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Filed under Poetry

tabby blonde

you showed up

in my dreams

last night again

and i thought

that was that

.

but just when i

thought i’d awake

’cause it couldn’t

get weirder, you

turned into a cat.

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Filed under Poetry

Sensum Cacoëthes

I don’t want your body, but I hate to think about you with somebody else
Our love has gone cold, you’re intertwining your soul with somebody else
I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone
And then leaving with somebody else; no, I don’t want your body
But I’m picturing your body with somebody else…

~*~

Your flesh does not impress me

The way it arcs against your bones

Or how soft your face must feel

To be pressed feverishly to my own

I dare not dream of fathoms, nor

Embraces on long nights, lukewarm

My fingertips don’t itch to wander

Searching for quicksand to sink into

.

Show me the inside of your mind

Guide me past its strange labyrinths

What makes it yours, lull me with

Candid words you sing in your sleep

And let me know you beyond you

Beneath skin and blood and starlight

Constellating an ephemeral body

Let me hold you beyond lusted disillusion.

~*~

Get someone you love?
Get someone you need?
Fuck that, get money
I can’t give you my soul
‘Cause we’re never alone…

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pseudonym [4]

alive, i dream, i sink

.

nothing to fear, i blink

death, your high, my low

.

yes, your maybe, my no

.

clever, a lie, a white noise

insane i sigh, my warm voice

zigzags, my path, your straight

even, my crooked, your gait

.

killed, i sleep, i levitate.

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Filed under Poetry

Pariah


“What doesn’t kill you
Makes you wish you were dead.”


I had a dream last night. A nightmare? Perhaps so. It was exactly like normal reality—except a little grittier and everyone was sort of…angrier, somehow. Directed at me. And no one really bothered to hide it. My entire family. My mother and siblings. My aunts and cousins. Even my usually gentle and caring grandmother now carried a derisive and wary attitude towards me. It was a very strange feeling to have.

Venomous whispers were chanted around like taunting mantras whenever I happened to pass by:

Waste of space, slithered one

Followed by absolutely fucking useless, and

Get a job, you stupid dropout

In one detached scene, I vividly remember absently murmuring I want to kill myself in front of my chastising mother, and she misheard it and simply laughed at me; a bitterly arrogant simper that lacked any humour. My brother though, he heard it perfectly correct, eyes glinting purple in quiet recognition. But he simply stared me down without blinking as I resolutely left the room, my mother’s shouting and insults still trailing behind me.

He knows. He knew. He knew and he didn’t care.

Well, good for him. I don’t, either.

A meeting was held in the living room. Tell us about yourself, a faceless jury commanded. Other people my age surrounded the table alongside me, mostly girls and some friends, though far more beautiful and more successful in their endeavours than I. And they were fully aware of it. Every underhanded glance from their pretty porcelain irises felt like it fucking stung like hell. These people talked it out smoothly, crooning and preening with flowers spilling out of their mouths, the unseen jury’s nods of approval palpably neck-breaking as they spoke about themselves. Their education. Their work. Their stability. Their social circle. Their payoff. Their lovely, sterile, and sweet suburban lives. They played their part, and they did it well.

This is what you’re supposed to be.

Do you understand?

Ha, of course not. What an idiot.

Obviously, when my turn came around, I was simply floored and at a loss for words. A coalescing stammer of anxiety and panic roared in my ears as I struggled to speak out. Who was I? Invisible eyes condescendingly glared from every corner, from every wall, from every space in the claustrophobic room that my shrinking body didn’t take up. 19, and already a pathetic failure. 19, and already completely deadbeat. 19, you’re already an adult, goddamn it. 19, what have you done with your life? God, what the hell have you done with your life? Why? Why? W h y ?

Who are you?

You’re no one.

I couldn’t stand it any longer. Shaky and almost delirious, I ran for my life, blindly pushing away the looming shadows with weak arms and managing to escape them, somehow. But stubborn silhouettes flickered resiliently past my skin, viscid tendrils willing to break my spine, and the vicious and abusive admonitions stayed echoing just as loud in my mind as if I was still trapped in that damned place. I found my way to my room—a complete mess, as if someone had been ransacking it prior to my arrival—and finally locked myself up in it.

Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale.

One, two, three…

Tired. My torn-up journal was half-open on the bed, every space on the paper filled with dirty ink and manic scribbles, and nothing written in it ever made sense. Tired. I collapsed by the bedside and tried to to pick it up, and a used sharpener blade fell out between the pages and landed right into my bruised palms, a curiously perfect fit. Tired. I failed you all. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. Blood. Where did all this blood come from?

I think it’s mine…

My cat’s incessant mewling suddenly jolted me into rousing, soft meows intertwining alongside the sounds of my two younger siblings getting ready for school and my mother ironing their uniforms. 7 AM. On my bed. Heaviness. I was just dying. Was that real? Was any of it real? Shit, I was just dying.

For a hazy, panicked moment, I was unreasonably mad for being woken up. Mad at them. But mad at myself, more so. I just desperately wanted to find out. About nothing. About everything. Maybe they are all really pissed at me that way. Maybe the dream didn’t end there. Maybe I could actually pass away in my subconscious. Maybe I still wanted to have even a sliver of the absolute courage my imagined self had, to finish what I always inevitably screwed up doing. There’s always some form of truth to every elucidating dream, after all. Maybe this was just the one I had to swallow.

But I’m still alive and miserably kicking, so I guess it didn’t fucking matter anymore.

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Filed under Prose

astir

there’s a

phantom

i tuck to bed

with me

every night

and he sleeps

safe and soundly

at the cost of

my own dreams.

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Filed under Poetry