asdgag

a;ksdljgpaei

stuck in the crevices of connotation

how does one,pray tell,confess
the inner confines of the soul?

the forms are hardly ever defined
and expression is all but sufficient

oh that you could understand, feel
the unbearable inferno at this core

that articulation could linger
in the nooks afforded by innovation

that expression could be inspired
beyond the guise of convention

that love and fear, joy and doubt be fulfilled
in the crevices of connotation

all that would remain would be a solitary fading ember
if the fires of this hell were cooled by a long-yearned for utterance

rusty pen

old words, used moments wrack me
it is a disquiet that will not cease

torn images, yellowed pages resurface
and sordid guilt grips tighter from within

broken touch, shattered pleas resume unwanted
the undertow is strong and it will not be quelled

one memory persists despite the struggle to overcome:
you, seeing you, loving you, knowing happiness.

bearing the weight

the dust settles
but the sun beats down unrelenting
there is never anything worse
than waiting
in the middle of summer

sweat clings
like a fitted jacket to the skin
there must be something better
than waiting
in the middle of summer

the mind wanders
and the soul finally struggles free
there are some things worth
waiting for
in the middle of summer

traffic

a finger scratches a spot on the head

confusion: missed points

who am i in a race against?

anxiety: the point is still missed

time is jotted down according to non-random circumstance

apprehension: points that will not connect

it is rush hour and motion is all that matters

despair: and it all flies past

acquiescence

you held my hand and across the meridian the sun grew dimmer
giving this threadbare nook added luminance

i dreamt of you and worlds within worlds, worlds outside our own,
responded

you spoke of love and awoke inside me the force of a gale
in the distance, a tree shook at the impact

i dreamt of you and worlds within worlds, worlds of our making,
blossomed

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