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Going Back to Grey

He came here ahead of me. It wasn’t him then, it was a girl: a girl so pretty and prim. For a week she didn’t last. Her blamelessness was lost. In her place came a man. Silent. Reserved. Suave. I took no notice since I was very much preoccupied by some other, whom I thought was far better. Indeed, I thought. How thoughts could go wrong! They were never certain anyway.

He was doing errands for everybody, slaving for them but me. He was aloof, or so I assumed. It took one little moment for me to need his presence. It didn’t hurt then. His glance caught mine, without the clichéd spark that every girl was dreaming to witness. That idea never came in for so many times until his voice is gradually penetrating into my comfort zone. What comfort zone?!

My daily routine was grey, and I needed some colors. I was used to the dead air I was living with for a month or so. That was my comfort zone. When I had no idea what was going on with the world out there. His voice was poignant and sharp and it could pierce. My comfort zone wasn’t spared. His eyes smiled and it smiled at me. My lips shuddered at the eagerness to respond back. I eventually trusted my ambiguous notions. After all, it was somehow good to have somebody to talk to. I was more bored than the dead and it was never prevalent to have me bored rigid of anything else in the world.

I found a friend in him and he instantly became the pages that I could smoothly write my whimpers onto, as I had things to tell but didn’t have the courage to. He was my diary, my breathing and bleeding diary. I could write and write and write some more and he would still crave further, which I undeniably fell in love with. I loved his enthusiasm to learn everything about me, like he cared. He said he cared. One word I despised. One word abused by every man who was caught in the shackles and is no longer free. How can one care? Apparently a lie I thought I should’ve forgiven, and yet, have not forgotten. As coward as my not telling those things meant to be unveiled.

I wanted badly to touch him, kiss him, and tell him how he had been the lingering dream I tried hard to eradicate every night. If he only knew how it kills me to see him, and her, whole together, while I’m slowly breaking apart. Sinful as you may call it, he once said he was mine. And I would have been his if I wanted to. That was stupid, of course I wanted to. We wanted to. But we could not. We should not. Somebody owns him and I was damned, years late.

Somehow I was able to live behind the deceptions of it all. While I was caught in my reveries of the him-and-I, creating funny noises on my mind exchanging words meant to exist within the spheres of my illusions. I chose to believe my own fantasies and learned to indeed believe them in due time. I was beginning to find bliss in it, and when I was ultimately blown away, he said goodbye.

He was going back to her. I heard him say farewell. But it didn’t sink in. he was walking away now. I was watching his every step, getting farther and farther away from where we used to be. But I’m still here, here where we used to be. I’m staring at his chair, the chair where he used to be. I know he’s never going to be back here, where we used to be. I think I’m seeing all the colors draining from the mainstream. And now, just about now, I’m beginning to go back again to grey.

—found this draft here, I can’t remember anymore who I was pertaining to but I thought I shouldn’t let my pieces die in the backyard so I posted it. No offense meant. :p

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~johanne~

One melodious strum on his guitar

sang arduously in to my heart

and with the murderous faint of his voice,

my world seemed all in motion.

All else was a  squabble of noise

blending into the charcoaled air

His songs were etched of glasses,

cutting through thick mists of red rain.

I see his music swirling about my head,

ransacking another serenade’s stead;

endowing life to the ones that were dead

and the living all have gone to fled.

His gaze burns the veins under my skin

and bursts of a billion cries within.

every strand of my hair yearns for him

like my life siphoning out of my dream.

That dream where rockers and cosplayers

conquered, stripping me off my dress.

Stepping like a mile closer to his oblivion

They hail me Queen, chasing my Ascension.

Where he would be with the twilight

waiting for my Resurrection. And

we would sing and make love until the

breaking dawn kisses the dead of night.

Happy Happy reunion!!

It feels pretty good to reunite with special people and have an icy cold coffee during a fierce afternoon sun.

I indeed missed out a lot, like being happy with my friends, im gonna get back the old happy me once and for all. *smile* im gonna post some pix in here, took these yesterday at SM City San Lazaro, that’s Manila, Philippines for the unfamiliar =)

I haven’t seen in her for a year and a half. felt great to have spent half the day with her and just being all crazy that day. spent some time at Starbucks and went straight to the movies to watch THE KARATE KID which was so cool! It’s me in the green top and black pants by the way. And Nadia in the black dress


Broken Summer

I’ve been waiting for his call, for his messages. It’s been Saturday when he did, and it’s already another Saturday. Well, it is Saturday morning, it’s only 7:40am. morning, but morning will turn to noon, the noon then to dusk, then it’s night again. and i know, still he wouldn’t care. he doesn’t care. he used to care about me. that’s why i like him, that’s why i love him. i told him i love him. i told him to react, he didn’t. that was a long time ago. he called after two months. he didn’t say anything about it that i had to bring it up again. it was a serious thing to talk about. love is a serious thing. and he hates serious stuff. i hated it too but i love him so i had to be serious. he should be too. but since he hates it, the serious became a joke. and we ended there, we ended where we had actually started..jokin around. foolin and bummin and laughin out loud till we drop and still joke about the most nonsensical people. now i’m the one who’s nonsensical, so he turns it into a joke..turns me into a joke.

i kept waiting for one message. a message that will never come. i know it won’t come. i won’t receive anything so i’m not gonna send anything to him either. i think its the right thing to do. coz only i get to do the things that men should do. so i wonder whether he’s really the man or i am. maybe i am, that’s why he doesn’t like me. coz i dont wear skirt or sexy tops or make up. i’m no dyke. if i was dyke, i’d like girls. i don’t. i’m tough and bitchy and i do what i want to do and the things i do always shock people and shut them up. like the way he shut up when i said i love you.

now it’s summer and it’s almost at its end. the piercing heat and freezing coldness will meet again. they always meet and chase each other. we were like that once. that’s why i envy summer and rain. but just like them too, summer loses the battle and rain begins to pour. He is rain, I am Summer and i am losing my battle now. he’s gonna pour down hard and strong and he’s not alone. tears of the rain come in millions, and when they pour, he’s gonna be with other raindrops. he’s gonna fall into the ground. he’s gonna fall with another raindrop and kiss the earth and in the cycle they will both turn into clouds and pour down again together. while Summer will return into the picture and be remembered a year after. sigh

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INOCENCIA

 

Inocencia”

Little lady, how delicate
you are! How ablaze and yet
luscious are those devil red
lips. How aflirt those lashes
and dancing are those
finger tips.

Little lady how lovely
you are! How serpentine is
your body and how your
eyes dazzle me. How insane
you drive me and how your
perfume smothers me.

But little lady how
bittersweet you are! Your hazel iris
stream anguish and
your melodious voice had
perished. How grieving
is that heart!

My little lady still how
divine you are! Though now
pale are those lips ad white
is your skin. Though glassy
are those eyes and yet are
still engulfed in dream!

My little lady, fair bud
crushed. Fragrant breath
left a final hush. Small
hand held the dagger, lust
it commands. Little lady
lathered the blood on her
Devil’s hands.

I wrote this when my friend was sexually harrassed by her step dad. I didn’t exactly knew the feeling but it devastated me so badly. She was safe, but she was no longer happy. There used to be a smile on her eyes. And I’m afraid I can never see that smile again. Inocencia…

 

 

DARK ROOM

 DARK ROOM

When some take their blades onto

Their children, and flee away a

Redeemer, or a sane less man and

Corrupted, from sidewalk Asylums.

Dare not breathe for me, I shall

Damn that mercy. For never shall

I be sorry, for my crimes and misery.

 

But amidst it all, how could you bleed

For me? For I care not nor think about

It. So pierce your eyes and kiss me

Now, and lay eternal on your

Hospital bed. Because the bleeding

Begins about now.

 

Let us toast for the hell that I am in.

For the angels, and the demons and for the

Vampires that I’ve been. Let us toast

For tyranny, no remorse of apathy.

There is no road that I’m going,

That I have never been.

 

 

Does anybody care to see what’s going on with the world..? We kill in order to stay alive. And people breathe in order to bleed for the salvation of evil..