November 8th, 2017

October 30th, 2017: Patitinan, Sagñay, Camarines Sur

For many days, I have wanted to cry but would only do so occasionally. Some days, I would feel as if I was floundering on shallow waters, unable to breathe. On other days, it was sleep paralysis at waking hours. No matter how much I wanted to move my limbs, my body simply could not. I would feel as if the earth was weighing down on me, relieving me of any possibility of stirring.

To sugarcoat, I had a much foreseen fit about a month ago or so. The aftershock wasn’t any better. After days of opening up to other people, I’ve distanced myself more and more from them. I was, still am, yet again caged in a harrowing display of distrust and hollowness. I had coped with purposeful solitude and horrid self-deprecating humour. I would talk about something else.

I’ve taken a liking on an unlikely stranger, someone that have not even been near the offshore. But I’m afraid I fancy such a stranger for fraudulent reasons. If there had been any other, then the situation would have been synonymous to the aforementioned. You see, it’s a tactical diversion of my mind; hiding behind dishonest romance and illicit affairs to shadow the painful truth that I am ever so empty. And I have only the sea to calm me.


Moonlit, faces shadowed,
we repent with
eyes consumed by
lust etched to our bodies,
lips, bickering when
unattached, and
skin, glistening like
the frosty stars that hover
above our reckless heads.

Yet, do not fret,
for tonight, we need not
to fall in love,
need not fall apart,
need not to cradle over
our fears of losing
and of what was once lost.

Tonight, we wait
for the crack of dawn,
for the rift in the sky.
Then, we scurry
to succumb back,
escape from our fantasy.

Tonight, for a single night,
we are allowed
to eat out our words,
to be wed by touch,
to stay hand to neck,
and breast to bone.

Unfazed by the lover’s quarrel
for, in the morning,
we are not.

So darling, stay the night.
Forget me not for just a second
and cherish this sliver
of eternity with me


I think I’m starting to fall in love

with the girl
who owns those insane eyes
that were not of baby blues
but of a golden brown hue;
those eyes that felt like they could consume
anyone in sight;
those eyes that gleamed, that glimmered,
that fit oh so perfectly with the night.

I think I’m starting to fall in love

with the girl
whose mind is as boundless
as the horizon where the sun sleeps
and the moon rises;
whose words come out
as my gospel,
as a gift from the gods and muses.

I think I’m starting to fall in love

with the girl
who casts her spell on me,
who enthralled me, enraptured me;
delight, pleasure,
weakening me
beyond any measure

with the girl
who sits next to me
and makes me feel
a little less lonely

with the girl
who’s not so much a girl
but of a lady

I think I’m starting to fall in love again,
finally, gracefully,

with the girl
who can destroy me
so elegantly

A Scene From A Movie


Her smiles,
a simulated orchestra.

The rhythm of her breaths,
an overture awaiting.

She reconciles with
her savage; isolating

the very profundity,
the very brilliance
of her cluttered insanity.




My days have been quite blurry again, almost dreamlike. And not in the good way. The last time I felt this way was way back in high school–the days when I lost track of time, lost all sense of  reality.

My dreams haven’t been too realistic again. But my waking hours have been too hazy to not think I was still asleep.

Perhaps it’s my lack of proper rest. Or that I’m fading away again. Back into the rabbit hole.

Wish me luck.

XII-IX-XXI (Life Update)


These past few days have been quite dragging for me. Unfortunately, my lack of reasoning and inspiration isn’t much of a motivator.

I’ve started journalling again. Although, I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I thought, perhaps, it could keep me sane. Not that my being a neurotic maladjusted hungry poet still gives me a shot at sanity. But hey, anything under the sun.

Cooking up a new screenplay.
Let’s see.




I rest upon the bosoms of solitude,
A reminder of my meager existence

Creating space in between pauses,
Shouting dissonance at the moon

I pour unrelenting majesty of poisonous pain
and wither, slowly, scrapping my sanity

I am rendered useless,

Vulnerable, like a child
lost amongst the aged wild

Hours, days, weeks, months
of forgetting what bliss might have felt like

I rest my head, ever so gently amongst the stars;
Hoping, waiting, for forgiving dreams of indulgent rapture