tongue-tied

the throat turns dry and moisture
collects in the palms of shaking hands
wordlessness. empty thought fills the
silence created by an incapability
to profess.

uncertainty. a perception of unattainability.
cracked lips turn on corners
turn down, not heavenward
with the understanding that battles are not won
by cowards

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mas okay yata kung ang title ay...TORPE...:p 

i wait as you follow luna

you crash over me like breakwater at high tide
it is never pleasant to be soaked
to the skin with my socks still on

but comfort is relinquished in your presence
i am silenced to acceptance
and accede to the onslaught of the spray

i will stand and let the barrage wash over me
i will stand and let the water take its toll
i will stand and watch when you finally recede

13

you, there, wrapped in your gilt-framed cocoon
did you ever wonder what it cost
to stay locked inside that half-empty tomb?

you, there, blowing rings into the air
did you ever wonder what it meant
to sit laid back and unaware?

knock open
knock your
knock eyes

i'm waiting here to break you out
out
no more

tense

i cut myself on the sharpness
of your forgetting
it is such a clear unremembrance
that the skin of my gaping wound
wraps around the lost memory
in the hopes of protecting it
only to surrender once again
to the void you've forced on history

thoughtful

it is not enough to write or to write well
a thorn scratches at my heart of hearts
unrelenting until perfect prose
captures the source of the offending rose