Tag Archives: life

INHERENT

There’s too much congestion and a lack of invention
Material eyes requiring constant attention
It’s the mystery lost in a web, in the well
As the spider awakes and decides what to sell…

~*~

Implicit implications, engraved warnings writ on sewn eyelids

Next to “never forget about them” and “fuck your pleasant tidings”

Hiding every heretic’s anthem, holding the threats above our heads

Elucidate all the progenies, surrender sickness without health

Radical remembrance, wrought past ranks of liberated contrabands

Expect the imminent expiration of another revolutionary dissonance

Neorealism strikes the uncertain death of sensationalistic inhibition

Through temporal hostility, arises the final response of failed anthropocentrism.

~*~

No handle on what comes next
Anti-passion makes an empty old din
Because a fearful eye’s pulling strings for thee
Watch on, round and round and
Round it goes, human nature!

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mementos and keepsakes

pieces of you—

scattered on post-it

notes, and cute stickers,

and bright polaroids

grinning at me every time

i have my head buried

beneath my terse hands,

sitting blankly by the table as my

unsteady life starts giving in

to the inexorable collapse…

.

i think it’s killing my mind

.

but i take these little

pieces of you, and i use it

to fill in the missing patches

within me that’s making

me crash and crumble

until they render me whole;

maybe someday i could

finally return them to you, but

not without pieces of me

still clinging on to it—

.

i hope you won’t mind.

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Peripheral Vision

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What a stubborn thought; to be loved, to be lost, to be loathed.

My initial mistake was to get myself foolishly caught up in the former instance, without carefully considering the ulterior consequences of my despicably reckless actions. I dived headfirst without peering in to see if there was a tangible ocean beneath me, and cried out in regret when my body got viciously torn apart by the jagged rocks awaiting below.

But, what else could I have done? And what else should I have not? I could spend my entire life painstakingly sifting through the showering grains of the hourglass, attempting to find a diamond until time runs out; or I could simply let the sand fall away to its own accord as I willingly hold out my roughened hands below—hurting, helping, hoping. The unfortunate namesake “human” is deeply threaded through my innocent nerves, shutting out the callous pessimism which only seeks to permanently cease my blood circulation; still withering against the gentler stings of anguish.

Though I have slowly faded out most of my past anamnesis, all of their phantasmic chimeras are still somehow luminously vigilant, almost even barbarous in its unremitting pursuit to frivolously preserve my already-squandered youth. Yet I suppose, no matter…no matter. For now, you are the overgrown wildflower field lulling my tired providence to rest, under fluid stars and unplucked scars and quavering sympathy—the only thankless relapse fully able to keep me awake for multiple infinitudes every twilight’s eve.

What a stubborn thought; to be loathed, to be lost, to be loved by you.

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Febfair {Diliman}

PicsArt_02-18-09.12.53

I woke up this morning

with blisters on my tired arms

and wilted grass blades and mud stains

stuck all over my filthy trousers

my throat dry, red eyes throbbing,

a giant pandemonium of a headache

swelling triumphantly in my brain

so I staggered to the bathroom

where the mirror replayed memories

of us screaming elatedly on dizzying rides,

walking about blinded by neon lights,

picking out cheap food from every

stall that we chanced to pass by,

taking blurry photographs with the widest

grins plastered on our sweaty faces,

telling cheeky stories against the noise

of both rock concerts and chattering crowds,

and secretly stalking our smitten friend

around like a bunch of nosy, giggling idiots—

and finally half-drunkenly weaving across

dark street ends after midnight (though we didn’t

have a single drop of alcohol in our systems)

stars barely visible, shoulders interlocked

the whole way back, middle fingers up

to your late night curfew, and we hugged it

out goodbye, silently wishing under our breaths

that the other one wouldn’t leave just yet…

jolted back to the present, I stared at my

trainwreck of a face and decorated party tattoos

and decided, with a wistful smile,

that I have never felt this good.

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fine [print]

With me understand
These patterns
How can you live forced
Into parallel lines
All functioning under
The same mind?

~*~

i’m so tired

that my skin

is beginning

to drip off my

bones and pool

on the ground

and i think my

brain’s going bad

again, it’s curling

up in a corner and

it doesn’t want to

be found out now

.

the rushed high

felt fun, but it’s

quickly wearing off

and the usual numb

is back and oh, it’s

more numb than ever

i thought i was going

to be fine, and it’s staying

that way if i really tried—

but is that just another

one of my famous lies?

will life never feel alive?

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pseudonym [8]

am i the letdown that shook the foundation of their worries?

never did it to myself, but it seems i only ever did it to please

distichs and dead ends weren’t enough to keep me occupied

you left me spent, the choice i made just leads to a shortsight

.

callous, beguiling, simpleminded, though blindly overdramatic

indelible yet impossible, a performative living that feels emetic

zipped-up lips and narcolepsy hide a contraband of nightmares

embarking past columned spines, still seeking hope in nowhere

kept only by the promises disgraced—perhaps it was never really fair.

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vanilla iced coffee (for archer.)

haze of rosy dusk

a quick afternoon nap

dreams about cake

a yawning drowsy cat

.

deeper lilac sprawling

to flood the sky with stars

sketch in colour pencil

now to finish and restart.

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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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a cold slice of toast (with pb&j)

Hullo. It’s about 1 AM as I drink my room-temperature coffee and jot this down on my notes app, and I’m in that usual Schrödinger’s midnight state of being simultaneously tired and hyperactive (while also procrastinating on another ugly painting. again.), so it’s due time for a bit of a lengthy reprised overpersonal contemplation once more. Heed this warning and turn away now if you don’t want to get bored with all my bullshit once more, nonexistent reader.

So. 2019. And another decade come and gone. 10 year-old me was still innocently bumbling around with their elementary best friends without much ado of a care in the planet, but then high school happened and college happened (barely but yea yk) and shit went down hard when reality put a .44 Magnum to my head and forcefully led me to the kerb to kick my teeth in; and here we are now, bordering on the verge of adulthood and ready to grow out another set of molars for merciless reality to painfully crush it all under its heel once more, just so it could watch me bleed out. Fun times. Reality is a filthy mob boss and y’all know it. But hey now, let’s not talk about that. Because if I spent my time whining about the past ten years of my life (and trust me, there’s a lot to complain about), this post will probably never cease and it’s already fucking long enough as it is. Shut the hell up @ me.

I digress. Let’s just have a little chit-chat about 2019, shall we? It feels like that past year was somewhat more of a year of unexpected discovery for me, I think. In the sense that I finally got to do some of the things I’ve only been desperately raring to accomplish for the past eight years or so. Taking the time off to focus my energies on what I actually enjoy doing, which was honestly a breath of fresh air. I’ve only spent two semesters in college, and it felt to me like every single day I was there alone and haplessly lost, I mostly loathed it with a burning passion (friendly reminder kids: stupid and lazy and antisocial put together does not make for a good academic career, take this from personal experience). And this sounds pretentiously cheesy to the point of stomach ulcer cliché, but I think maybe I’ve also grown a little more, even if just a bit more, this year??? At learning new things. Getting better at them. Wanting to get better at them more. When I read back on the previous new year’s journal entry that I wrote, I feel pleasantly surprised at how much of it I’ve actually accomplished and then some—well, maybe sans a few things here and there, but not much big losses to me. It’s not like I even held myself to it in any way. On the contrary, I was already classically jaded and hopeless from the get-go, as the final lines blatantly suggest. But things just happen if they do and if I let them, I suppose. And if they always happen like this, then I can’t really say that I mind it at all.

But just like any other year, this one wasn’t without its downs. And when I say I hit rock bottom, I mean that I hit it so hard that I got charged for several counts of battery and assault, no bail. E.g. the whole disappointing failed college fiasco that gave my entire family a relentless migraine and left me very literally nearly dead on my dorm room floor. The obnoxious dramatic three-way fallout with someone who I once used to respect a lot but just had to go and fuck everything up to an unfixable extent. The uncontrollable, exhausting, emotional torture that my stupid arse accidentally fell victim to and am still somehow irrationally putting myself through for almost a year now(!!!). The opportunities I willingly missed out on because I didn’t think I was worth all the trouble. Starting to slowly drift away from people I care about a lot. The incredibly destructive sense of feeling worse and worse about the way I look. The deadbeat, desolated, pointless kind of hellscape living for endless months at an end that probably helped build up an irrefutable case of spite and ingratitude against me. The usual (if not higher) doses of anxiety and depression and mania and crippling insecurities and whatnot that constantly loves dropping anvils down my skull without remorse whenever they feel like it. Growing older in general. The ever-present thought of not really wanting to live anymore. Why fucking bother, eh?

But even if I hate to admit it, there were also good things. Spread thin, far and few in between, but still there somehow. Getting back on this site and writing some more. Making bad drawings and paintings and hoarding art supplies I barely use. Slowly but surely getting back to reading books again. Music; learning it, playing it, listening to it, loving it with all of my heart and soul, bands and band boys and band fics and band blog shenanigans, oh my! Having better friends who made me laugh the misery away and haven’t completely scissor-kicked me out of their life even if my socially-inept self hasn’t been the best to them. Actually getting noticed by the very people I look up to the most (?!??!! this one still horrifies me to this day, it feels like a fucking fever dream to me sndhdk). Hanging with the fam. Getting a dumb but cute pet cat out of the blue. Exercising for some extra happy chemicals and penny-boarding, despite all the bruises and scars I get from it. Getting into trouble after a few impulsive drinks and other random misadventures. Wearing the stupidest outfits, probably looking like an underpaid hoe in the process. Laying on the soft grass alone every night after a long exhausting day and watching the stars flicker beyond the skylines, as Los Baños breathes easy around me. Daydreaming childishly with them. Feeling a little more okay, at the rarest moments of tranquility. Cautiously hopeful. Starting to accept life, despite how insanely out-of-character that sounds. I mean, I am writing this on an off-day, so I’m bound to change my my mind about it in probably…ehhh, I’d say five minutes, allow the spiteful inborn cynic in me to fully kick in and spit in my pathetic face. Ah shit, I just ruined the entire thing, didn’t I. Whoops. Rewind. Where were we? Oh yeah, the whole “starting to accept life” conundrum. That one. Gross. Whatever.

I fully well know that I just can’t stay stuck in this strange limbo, though. The pressure’s boiling to a painfully-scalding degree and it’s high time for me to get back on my atrophied feet now. Take tentative dips into the things that terrify me out of my wit’s end. Stop holding myself back too much and take the plunge, even if I know all too well that I’ll inevitably drown. I have to take risks. I have to do things. I have to be useful. I need to, I guess. It’s a fucking capitalistic travesty, but that’s the unfortunate way things work around here and I can’t do jack about shit. I’ve had my quiet repose, seven gracious months of it, and by god if people have been extensively patient with me. I really don’t want to test their breaking point as they did mine. It’s rather silly now, because despite all the free time I had to think (and mostly overthink) about it, I honestly still don’t know what to do with myself. I have the vaguest idea of it, but I’m at a total loss with how I’m supposed to arrive there. Hell. I just don’t know anymore. But I’m turning 20 soon for fuck’s sake, and if I really want things to change, I know that I just can’t sleep away all my problems forever.

It’s time to wake up, Allen.

(or not at all)

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a cold slice of toast (01.03.19)

It’s 2019.

Maybe I could improve on my writing skills

I know I write shitty poetry a dime a dozen

But my dumb fanfictions and short stories

Are still no good to me—no, no good at all

Or perhaps I could do a little better with chord

Changes and strumming and barre chords

On my strawberry-red guitar and ukulele

And buy a violin I’ll probably never use just

To get a laugh out of my poor bleeding ears

Or I could make a hundred more watercolour

Paintings and spend a million quid on buying

Art materials I don’t even know how to use

Just to make a mess out of my dorm room desk

And I didn’t do so well on my first semester

But perhaps it will be better the next time around

In the meantime, I could tire myself out and travel

I could improve my bad ollies, try out new hobbies

Finally get a kickflip in, paint my hair to a rainbow

Stop ignoring my friends like I don’t give a damn

And stop being frustrated with the way I am—

Or I could spend an entire year coming up

With better ways to say “fuck it all, who cares anyway?”

…I think I like that last one a lot.

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