Tag Archives: personal

Feisty Four 4️⃣

A very happy birthday and many scrumptious slices of ube rolls and chocolate cake to this cheeky little bugger!! Not to sound a tad cliché and all but honestly Gianni-ya’s growing up quite fa(s)t that just thinking about it’s sending my mind into orbit,, like oh snap it’s been four years since he was first born and stole my spacey bedroom from me and since then it’s been four years of lots of playtime and wailing and giggles and messes and disgusting bodily fluids and babysitting afternoons and most of all, those annoying knockoff nursery rhymes and songs with awful animations about baby sharks and selfish monkeys hoarding the bed and johnny johnny straight-up lying to his dad, the fucker jk hahaha anyway much love kid 🎉🎂🎈

Also, here’s a video from when Gianni and my younger sister walked in on me blasting some metal on speakers in the bedroom (if you could pardon the mess of our tiny cramped house, soz) and we randomly decided to teach him how to mosh slash scream sing, and he very nearly ended up bashing his head on the window (we are clearly really Good babysitters™, hire us pls). Anyway, he does love watching and dancing along to All Time Low, Pierce The Veil, and Sleeping With Sirens music videos (among numerous other emo bands, that is) and y’all, guess whose fault that is though ooft 👀 Not gonna lie, I don’t know whether to be ashamed or proud of myself for that lmao but at least I could victoriously revel in the fact that my older brother has a lowkey grudge on me about it because he also attempted to indoctrinate our nephew with his own music of choice (i.e. k-pop)—and failed miserably teeth on concrete lmaooo bitch u really thought??? I sang classic rock lullabies to this bairn since he was barely even months-old and goddamn well raised him on a healthy dose of punk and alternative music, your pathetic attempts to relinquish us shall prove futile!!! okay wow that was a bit of a stupid tangent and i still have some leftover mango roll to gorge on along with my rapidly-cooling black coffee so goodbye for now and happy 4th beeday again gianni ya chubby adorbaby~

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Filed under Other stuff

rusty mailbox

you’ve got that

american blue in the very pits

of your iris,

and sometimes it feels

almost electric

but i know i’ll just end up

with a black eye if i

keep on staring

i’m not usually this brand of rude

but i can’t help it

if i’m cliché suckered

by that beach-at-early-gentle-dusk

kind of blond,

figure i could still taste

sea salt in my throat if i inhaled

hard enough

maybe you’re afloat

waiting for

a false breakwater romance

drowning siren song

with a hateful kinda endearment

and speaking of

you hate sports and my visual arts

but you like virtuous

green heroes

and staying up for 38 hours

and i like monochrome serial shows

and the number of

sweets i could still spell out

if i threw your full name

in an anagram machine and let it

run wild, here’s one:

cotton candy

maybe that’s no fun for you

don’t worry, it’s no fun

for me either

but it’s always fun to dream a bit

afternoon stargazing

spitting grey fur

overthinking about it some more

buttercup, that’s not one

but i quite like it pinned on your hair

if you won’t mind

i don’t live near a garden

but we could always find some way

or another

to quote a reference

for something

you probably don’t listen to—or do you?—

i’m never gonna see it

all in bloom

because now

it’s almost late spring

(summer ’round my axis)

and not fantasy football season

and i think i love you

all the same

so maybe i’ll just stretch

out my stiff spine

write a generic letter with no

return address

and turn the unplugged television on

just to see how it all

pans out.

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Filed under Poetry

brushwork

peace in painting

colourful nothings

tranquil world building

depths over blending

.

peace from painting

painstaking everything

images constructing

for an evoking unveiling.

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Filed under Poetry

little spirals (06.05.20)

life’s been kinda fucked. anxiety and depressive episodes have been really bad. so many big and sudden changes happening both in and out of my personal perspective that i’m finding maybe just a bit hard to cope with. incessantly worrying over certain things and people even though it’s rather pointless to do so but i can’t help it all the same. mild vapid distractions don’t seem to be working anymore and i literally can’t do anything normal nor mindless without overpowering guilt having a big go at me, yelling that i shouldn’t be doing it at all because god damn it, life can’t go on right now—not with everything else that’s going on at the moment, you inconsiderate selfish cunt. 2020 just somehow keeps stretching into another insane bout of unwanted changes and numbing limbo and miserable infinity and at this point, it’s honestly quite reasonable to wonder if it’s still even worth it to keep hanging around. if not, then perhaps the total surrender could be justified if there’s nothing really left to look forward to out there anymore. huh. some rotten food for thought. i wanna fucking throw up. or just stay off the internet for a while. anyway, take care and three cheers for worsening mental instability 🥂

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Filed under Prose

Erethism

i am tethered to my sickness—

brain worms and implacable affinity

soil and blood like strings on

careful fingers, knitting precariously

the loose ends, every alteration

another implication, pull hard enough

and i am tightly bound to peril

deeply fused into your liquid mercury

insensate though that may be

unliberated; as my mind is a metal can

rust and decay so effervescent

an empty clanking of unlinked adages

circulating alluvial expectations

throughout all of my weeping nerves

and stillness, if i were still able

pain could only wake me for so long

before attachment becomes a

blunted weapon, and your infection, my

bereaved maladaptive paradise.

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Filed under Poetry

RE: anxiety’s a bitch but I don’t want to be whinging too much about it because it could be so much worse off, so here’s a dumb thing I did instead

The current state of the world getting worse and worse with every passing minute + some personal comedowns and lingering paranoid afterthoughts + just the usual unreasonable brain dysfunction fuckery have really got my anxiety spiking up to unbearable extents lately, so here are some random practice gouache animals I painted last night in an attempt to zone out of reality and keep myself distracted for a couple hours.

Well I mean, they’re supposed to be animals but I don’t really know how to properly draw any sort of creature outside of Pokémon species and Animal Crossing villagers, so they’re more really closer to vague, blobby, bastardised approximations of what may or may not be IRL animals or just completely made-up ones at this point, soz who knows. I obviously couldn’t be arsed halfway through making some of these and that’s why they look like they crave the sweetest release of death but oh well :^) 20 internet points if y’all could tell which ones those were (surprise!! t’was actually all of them!! jk but not really). I think the bee looks the best though, I did love making those fuzzy textures and translucent wings and ah heck maybe I just like bees a lot anyhow, bzz bzz. Also, slightly off-topic but my poor sketchbook is falling apart so much that it’s basically only held together by crude bits of washi tape at this point and I only have less than ten pages before I finally fill it all up and wow I reeeeaaally need to purchase a new one at the earliest possible convenience. Hopefully a better quality one that won’t buckle too much if at all under my constant art supply abuse???

Anyway, I digress. I’ve also found that listening to instrumental piano music greatly helps to calm me down—as much as I do adore electric guitars beating me up with crunchy distorted djent riffs, extreme nonstop drum snares and blast beats, and spaghetti bass strings tuned lower than hell itself whilst the vocalist with a voice of fifty tortured lovecraftian monsters shrieking in unison beckons me on to get the fuck up and disrespect my surroundings, bless that heavenly beautiful-sounding instrument as welland I listened to the 0124 album by Hiroko Murakami while making these (along with some soul-cleansing classical pieces by Debussy and Ravel, can’t go wrong with those ofc). And if all else fails, I pretty much just make a nice fresh mug of lemon green tea and nick some biscuits off the grocery bags and then afterwards proceed to curl up and bury my face in my sleeping cat’s soft warm tummy for a couple minutes and quietly yell about uninteresting trivialities until I either start to feel better or simply pass out from severe exhaustion. As a matter of fact, I think that may hit the spot, so ta and goodbye for now :>

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Filed under Prose

Expulsion, Repulsion

I bow before the

Ivory cistern

It is my deity

It shall accept my

Grotesque offering

Lights dimmed

And the ritual

Thus begins

Slowly, hands poised

Carefully, mouth

Gaping wide open

Trickling waterfall to

Hide all the

inhuman prayers

Passing through my

Throat, along with

Whatever else

One try, two tries, three

Rigid flesh heaving

Body shaking

Knees buckling

Trying to keep myself

Together enough

To tear myself apart

Undecipherable chunks

Fluids falling

A constant stream of

Involuntary tears

But—begat me

It’s too little, too little

For too much

Poor performance

Unsatisfactory

Pathetic—

Yet why, oh why does

Everything just

Fucking hurt all the

Very same?

Losing track of life

Almost half an hour has

Since passed

And my lungs could

Take no more

Begging for some repose

But it needs more

More more more more

So little so less

So full of shit

So full of me

It wasn’t enough but

Maybe it has

To suffice for now

Please, I hope

Slow down

Troubled breaths

Catching up

Though not quite the

First attempt

It never does get

Easy with every usual try

Metallic water drips

To wash away

The transgression

The evidence

The guilt

Leaving me with

A happy daze and

Messy shirts

And stomachaches

To last for days

But that’s okay

The ivory god is forgiving

And welcoming as

It is cold, and

I’ll always be fighting

Against temptation

And failing

And slipping

And cracking under

Pressure, and

When I’ll do

Rest assured I’ll

Be atoning

Pleading within this

Porcelain temple

Waiting for

Another unholy dying

Making amends

Saving my shrinking spine

And trying to be fine

Until the next time.

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Filed under Poetry

Cardiomyopathy

you maniac heart, you

catatonia

throbbing enamel and

philophobia

bleeding uranium, you

arrogant soul

you destitute malady

skinless goal

now lie in hospice, you

anosognosia

autonomy wanting and

open hematoma

.

you maniac heart, you

cryptophasia

nerve damage done and

agliophilia

transmitting a fever, you

capricious role

you diabolic attraction

apoplectic hole

now die in humours, you

necromancer

cryptic temperament and

heuristic answer

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Filed under Poetry

Rise and shine, sleepyhead

20200520_040452_753853598078446304777.jpg

Good morning, sunshine.

You are a slow sip of icy coffee on a sweltering summer day, sweet and bitter and decadent and satisfying all at the same time. The yawning sun is barely peeking out of the horizon, still playful and forgiving; bathing you in childish glows and warm reverie. Life is nothing more than a bite of honey-dipped pastry and freshly-made ham and cheese sandwich, a shared table with an aged stranger, a silly dream full of friendship and fast times and flirtation—life is nothing more than fleeting polaroid snapshots of blurry smiles and quiet contemplation. Now melt the ice between your teeth, let the chill run down your lungs, and let the wandering words on your pen speak for themselves.

It is only morning, after all, and the universe is still quite hazy. Breathe it in. Make it last.

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Filed under Prose

echolocation

PicsArt_05-20-06.06.20

i found a blister

on the underside of

my tongue, just

trying to talk to you

today—it’s better

left alone but sometimes

my teeth click against

it and it emits a little

hissing echo, like a

cloud of incensed bats

flying out of their damp cave

to finally face the sun

and burn their flesh

dwellings and night vision

impaired for another

sleight of sudden death

i wonder if this blister

will ever heal, even after all

the times i rubbed it raw

and when it does, and

when daylight no longer stings—

what else will be left

in me to h u r t ?

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Filed under Poetry