Tag Archives: musings

somewhere in hiraeth’s diner (i’ve gone and saved a seat for you)

(Just some extra bits from my artwork. I wanted to play around with painting surreal, impressionistic backgrounds using gouache and using a vaporwave-esque colour scheme, so this is the end result of it along the write-up, which I wrote afterwards in a fit of possessed inspiration. I also threw in a little snippet of the wip lofi song I’ve been working on for a couple of days now in the video above, because I think it fits the overall ambiance of this entire project well and y’know, why not. I had honestly so much fun making this, and that final tape peeling??? ✨ S a t i s f y i n g ✨)

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Filed under Prose

27 – musings on gil puyat station

oh, she’s like this cardboard city, with the subtle way she’s barely holding herself together.

she’s an anachronism, of late-night guilt and freshly-brewed coffee; no sugar, no cream, barely sipped. she intertwines her deepest confessions inside my vulnerable chest cavity and suddenly constricts without warning, completely sucking me dry of resentful consciences and clever second thoughts.

though i talk with corroded shackles beneath my tongue, i care not for the sharp tang of rust. while she solemnly weeps for fictional infinities on the other side of the country, i impatiently await that impending reply as i absently gaze outside the window of a clattering train, basking at this city, built upon centuries of dusty grey smog and busy promises—of fragile bodies barely touching, barely stopping to breathe, barely existing.

she has an irrational need, that insensible girl, to save what can no longer be saved, to control what is far beyond her means, to create as it destroys her. the pleading words on the dull glow of my screen are a tangible whisper, tasting of colliding tears and bitter shame. “i want to help you, like they always did for me, but—i fear…i fear i cannot.”

can you not, indeed? my ulterior rejection is swift and bordering on impolite; but i still listen, and descry for mutual understanding. for though i shall never admit it out loud, your blithe persistence undoubtedly plagues me; to the very throes of my lavender dreams—resting beneath the stars as i turn my back upon that flimsy conversation and that paper metropolis, and allow myself to think clearly again.

to her, i am the eternal glue that holds her together. to me, i am the stranger who mercilessly ripped her apart in an attempt to reconstruct her to my own selfish beliefs.

who is right? what is the relative concept; of wrongness, of forgiveness, of sudden change and reconciliation, of the flismy trust that you broke, and the tested faith that broke you?

and who am i to tell?

the verdant landscape of laguna finally greets my wandering eyes and thankfully pulls me away from the echoing cries of that city, that poster past of a coalescing city that fills up my thoughts with a charcoal haze and renders everything else an unfamiliar slate of grey. my sighs are comforting once again, and she no longer appears to be just another one of the million impostors i came across today.

she means well. she meant well.

though—call it nihilism if you may—at the very least, she should be tolerable to her qualms and fear not the fortunate reality of losing me; arms unfolding, heart reaching, mind forgetting.

and fade away, i will. a plastic boy like me has no place in a cardboard world like this.

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Travel Thoughts

I’m not a fortune teller, I won’t be bringing news
Of what tomorrow brings, I’ll leave that up to you
I’m not a fortune teller, don’t have a crystal ball
I can’t predict the future, can’t see nothing at all…

~*~

I wonder sometimes, about fleeting things.

Sitting calmly and musing over tranquil thoughts on the top floor of a double-decker bus, watching tall foliage and even taller skyscrapers rush past my awe-stricken eyes, I’m basking in the excited beating of a foreign heart, a dearly beloved stranger, familiar yet unknown, warm blood palpitating fervently in a buzz of amalgamated emotions and hundreds of footsteps on the worn-down pavement. Yet I feel for my chest with a fluttering hand and find that mine seems to be dulled down into a quiet languor.

I dream of the future. And I dream of returning.

But the future tastes like a distant impossible nowhere—very much like this city that I’m currently traveling past—when the hands of my clock are still stubbornly stuck on the eleventh hour. I’m a broken compass with faded directions, and I’m never sure where the gravity is pulling the pointer towards, until I find myself lost without a second thought. I can’t ever be certain if there was even a north, south, east, or west in the first place. Maybe it’s just me and one big unfathomable plane of existence with no directions, no places to go, only nothing. And nowhere.

I don’t know where I am. I don’t know where to go.

I want to carry on despite all my crippling doubts paralysing my broken legs, but the crashing ocean in my tongue is salty and deep, and the drowned nightingale has ceased warbling melodies in my throat. I think of could-have-beens and come-what-may’s, and I try to make it sound comforting instead of terrifying, try to convince myself that I’m going in a path that I intended to cross, and I’ll make it somehow. I attempt to wrap myself around the steady beat beat beating of this stranger they call a city, and I let the static sounds and captivating lights cradle me into its metropolitan lullaby. This is only one of the million strangers I have yet to make acquaintances with. And only a fraction of my time.

And I dream of hope. And I dream that someday, I don’t have to dream anymore.

The future is fleeting. But, perhaps, I might just have one.

~*~

This feeling keeps growing
These rivers keep flowing
How can I have answers
When you drown me in questions?

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Filed under Prose

a muse’s musings

you gave me

a brilliant surge

of optimism—

so bright, it’s

rather painful

i was never one

to count my stars

before they appear

but now i’m hopeful

for all of the doubts

incarcerated me

and it’s always

disappointingly brutal

but now you’re here

with a sign so clear

so i’ll hold on and

carry on until i’m far.

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Filed under Poetry

Standby

If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall
Or the mountain should crumble to the sea
I won’t cry, I won’t cry, no, I won’t shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me…

~*~

Why won’t you just stand by me

When my flimsy lullabies falter

Dissolving into stars so sullenly

Speckling the midnight splatter

When the thin air is suffocating

My lungs like a veil of pollution

Breathe, my oxygen effervescing

Heaven’s my only proper solution

The placid moon refines its aura

Into one masterful stained glass

Ready to hear the mournful coda

Of an operatic Valkyrie’s cold lass

Why won’t you simply stand by me

When I’m all apt to be falling apart

Is this but my astrological reveries

Built by a wandering glitched heart

Perhaps I dare now to be neurotic

My tales taller than a red sequoia

In this beach of sands and plastic

You’re the most nebulous paranoia

As sporadic as an elemental spirit

Donning your perverse confluence

And a lopsided smile that’s conduit

For a clandestine mischievousness

Darling, won’t you stand, stand by me

When the galaxy catches my attention

And celestial kingdoms align recklessly

We’ll watch Earth’s theatrical revolution

This quaint planet’s divested, so let it be

Come walk with me for last destination

And I shall carry you home into eternity

Where we can finally sit to rest our notions.

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Astrological Musings

Not many are fully aware, but the known universe is mostly composed of dark matter and antimatter.

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It is said that they make up about 95% of everything that occupies the vacuum of space.

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And yet somehow, curiously, we humans always manage to pinpoint and view the 5% of it.

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The 5% filled with endless arrays of astral bodies to observe,

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The 5% blazing with light and utter radiance,

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The 5% that opens up new possibilities and hope.

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Because to us, it doesn’t matter how seemingly scant the light is,

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So long as it’s still there.

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And to us, the darkness is nothing else but another component

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That makes the stars shine brighter

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So that we could see them even better.

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