per diem

This morning, I took you from a bitter cup of coffee. I warmed my lips to its scalding touches. I felt all bitterness forced down every inch of my throat.

But I needed it. I needed to savor every ounce of acrid sips to keep my eyes open. I needed the pain to erase all numbness that dawned since the moment of my waking. Just like how I needed you. To relish and take on your existence. With each palpitating heartbeat.

Just so I can feel alive.

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phantasm

Subdued in a
deceptive
monochromatic tune
Deceit lingering
theft in
parade

“Kneel.” coaxed the bearing throne.

Trail
the mirage of
a stunning facade.
Do you dare break the
shrill skeletons
of porcelain? Dawned
on the shackled
rhythm
it had
CLAIMED.

clandestine

Huddled together

in a pile of broken

boxes,

fever reaching full fire.

But no one came to

roust them.

 

“Thank you.” She plunged in.

frozen, weeping,

stumbling over

stray tears

“I have nothing left to lose.”

 

He could fall asleep and

close his eyes

expecting to wake in

the next world.

 

Dimly,

they waited

to set fires

that would burn the

corpses.

 

But when?

 

They wandered.

Strangers

they’d never seen.

So instead they forget

all that’s done.

 

Out of the eventide

they got their

wish.

 

The night

was winning so far.

But you’ll see

who wins in the end.

 

foregone.

Memoir of Redound Reminiscence

And only a blink it had took. I let the fire take over and set me alight. Eager for the hope of draping me in tongues of fervid passion. The vivid hues of red had us drown into one like a bottle of cabernet. And when the last drip of bitter wine tease our lips from the broken glass, only sober eyes are left to reflect gray areas.

Now that my hands are empty, it leaves nothing but a trail of fingers skimming over bruising shards. A set of blood-stained hands still burning at the caress of what is left of the ashes.

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and reckon I-

Know nothing if not my spirit, fading. In the thick of smoke. Our sanity on

edge. My lips cut open like a wound feeble and deflated, along the wake of dissipated knots begging yours I bled. but

no longer. an intangible

twine,

 

Plucked out of my chest.

Sweet talking violin strings where

 

there was only silence

in our deathbed.

foregone.

And only a blink it had took. I let the fire take over and set me alight. Eager for the hope of draping me in tongues of fervid passion. The vivid hues of red had us drown into one like a bottle of cabernet. And when the last drip of bitter wine tease our lips from the broken glass, only sober eyes are left to reflect gray areas.

Now that my hands are empty, it leaves nothing but a trail of fingers skimming over bruising shards. A set of blood-stained hands still burning at the caress of what is left of the ashes.

hanging by a thread

What if I had longed to pocket your gaze, much as the forgotten petals strewn along the all familiar path we have walked through untold times?

What if I told you that the sound of your laughter lives on echoing and spilling out of the hems on my clothes for each and every day I have willed myself to get out of it?

What if I divulge the feel of every time I hear that sickening delight of a melody your name would entice, as though it had the power of destroying and rebuilding my world within a blink?

Usbong sa Lilom – on death penalty

Palasak ang kaisipan na ang hatid ng pamumunga ay isang kapararakang inaasahan sa mga dumarating na pagsibol. Magmula sa mga usbong na naghihintay pumiglas sa kaniyang mga sanga. Pagtubo, at pag-ani, ika nga.

Lagi nga bang magmumula ang mga bunga sa ugat na makapagbibigay-buhay sa hinaharap? Dumadaloy nga ba sa bawat hibla ang lason o gamot na likha sa dahan-dahanang itinimbang na pag-aning kay tagal ipinunla?

Taliwas sa inaasam ng karamihan, ang pagbunga ay maaaring sumalamin sa mga suloy na paparating patungo sa tahas nitong kahihinatnan. Ang pagbunga, ang inilalathalang “pagbabago”, tila ba nag-aapurang ihatid ang bawat isa tungo sa nakaambang hantungan.

Isang pagwawakas, timbang sa paggawad ng hatol na kikitil ng walang pagdarakila. Ang nakaambang pagpataw ng linlang na hukom. Anupa’t ang mga bunga ay ang tungki ng mga disposisyong kalalabasan. Kasabay na lamang nito ay bibitayin ang mga umusbong na iginawad ang wakas sa kamay ng mga proklamang manghuhusga.

Pirming liblib ang kadahilanan sa hindi inaasahan, hindi masusugpo. Tila pagkawit sa kinahahantungang kubli sa kamalayan – liban na nga lamang sa piling hinirang.

Tayo, na mga bunga, ay kahihinatnan na lamang ng hatol sa biglaang pagkakataong gawad sa isang huwad na trono. Gayong yayamaning kulong sa takdang paggapas! Sinisingil nang walang pakundangan sa pandagan ng halagang mainam man o suklam, tayo rin ang may sala!

Dangan,
anumang marapat na hangganan, hindi ba’t ang bawat bunga ay nagmula sa mumunting punla? Paloob ang napakaraming posibilidad. Kailanman, di matatangnan sa pagtimbang at paggawad ng bitay nitong lihis sa punto na maaaring makapamunga.

Lalo pa sa kalagayan nating tila isang himpilang nakapaloob sa lilom.