With.IN.tuition

idlepost: Wind, take my words. I am with you.

Sun, 28 Oct 2012 00:03:18 +0800

Wind, take my words.

I am with you.

The Indie girl at 7- Eleven

Wed, 24 Oct 2012 15:10:04 +0800

I’m at 7-eleven again observing people, things are pretty normal like the usual. Oh yeah I better buy my favorite Oreo strawberry milkshake cream and a cola. Let’s see, a girl accidentally grabbed the same can “I’m sorry it was unintentional “I said awkwardly … She answered me with a smile oh God! I’ve never seen such a beautiful smile in my entire life. She walks gracefully through the chair near the cashier suddenly “flicks by frou frou” plays at my iPod like the background music in the films.

I decided to sit at the chair near the door so I could keep an eye at her and have the pleasure to stare her beautiful face she’s my idea of what is beauty her long straight ginger hair fits perfectly on the black bonnet she’s wearing what an absolute babe. she’s “flawless”. I wonder why I haven’t seen her before. Oh my! She’s looking at me with those deep eyes “relax Rick relax” as I continuously tell to myself. Now a lot of things are running through my head, is she the type of girl who I could play video games with all day long? Is she a girl who loves walking at the park and does silly things or, someone I could cuddle up while listening to my favorite bands and never heard complaining “maybe just maybe” she could read me her favorite books…? I’m hoping that she wasn’t into playing demented mind games … I couldn’t get the strength to ask her name would she find it creepy if I ask her Website URL, I better drink this cola before it gets warm.
“Deep breathe…”
“Breathe… “
I finally decided I’ll introduce myself… What the she’s leaving! I don’t give a fuck if I’ll look like a creepy stalker I will follow her. Why does she walk so fast damn it! Now she is running is she in a hurry?
I have to walk a bit faster
“Wait! Wait!”
“Don’t cross the street! ^%**(@!% “
The indie girl at 7-eleven had been hit by a bus… She’s even prettier with her olive tanned skin covered by blood…

The Sketch

Sun, 23 Sep 2012 16:42:00 +0800

I don’t know why I find myself staring at it again. A smile creeps its way to my face. I gaze at it tenderly; the shades, the shadows, the curve of the smile, everything is done exquisitely. I gently trace the outline with my finger. He have taken such care drawing this. hmm. he must have used an 8B with this. the outline is smudging yet you can still see the blackness at the core.

he got the glasses right. he got the hair right too. I find myself giggling again. I just can’t believe it. he drew me. he drew me in my sketchpad and on his own volition. I don’t know if it’s fate or serendipity or whatever but thank goodness I forgot my sketchpad.

I look at his little note, down there, at the left. the note isn’t really that big. hell, if you can even call it a note. just two words and an emoticon yet i could feel the weight it carried.

I look outside the window, birds soaring in the air. the breeze is swaying the tall coconut trees and the sun is shining so bright in a cerulean blue sky. It feels like summer again. I close my eyes and remember the wobbling of the boat, me sitting right at its prow. I could feel the spray of salt water at my face, its smell clinging on my clothes. the feel of grainy white sand at my feet, hot and arid while separating me from the blue blue deep.

I open my eyes once more and look at the sketch. the loving expression of this rendition of me is far from reality. the look of his caricature is devilish yet there is something there that is comforting. it may not look anything like him but it does capture something else: who he is.

his two-worded note haunts me. try as might, all my thoughts lead back to a dreaded question I’d rather not face, much more, contemplate:“what if it were me and him?”

like impulse, my mind flies back to sensations that must not be remembered. sensations best buried 50 feet under the ground. truth be told, he talks to me more often than I talk to my bien-amie. I feel so comfortable with him, yet there’s something about my bien-amie that keeps me at his control.

I close the sketchpad, remembering all that he said to me. “I love you enough to let you be happy with him.” it haunts me. everything haunts me. all our memories. all the words. everything, everything.

too late, my dear. a great love too late. I am not being fair. my bien-amie deserves me fully.

I slowly open the sketchpad again. I flip through the sheets, my works flitting before my eyes. last page. it’s his sketch again. realistically unrealistic. just like me and him. we have been possible yet that is long gone now. wasted, all the good possibilities; they remain unreal. my phone rings. it’s a message from my bien-amie. “hi, my Blüte! I love you!” I put my phone down and resume looking at the sketch. meanwhile, birds are chirping outside and slowly, oh so slowly, a tear falls from my eye.

beckon

Sun, 23 Sep 2012 15:30:14 +0800

MoodyFucktard

show unto me

thy blessed heart

thy miraculous hands

thy un-ending grace

give unto me

your heavenly mercy

your venereal chastity

your wrath given so righteously

for i do not see

i do not hear

i do not feel

i do not believe

i’ve fallen into hellish mortality

prey of intellect so arbitrary

victim of stone-hearted unemotionality

slave of pompous insanity

oh mother most merciful

father most gracious

hear my tiny little plea

show yourselves unto me

for i can only see

all of your inconsistensies

all of your flaws so unsightly

not the gods held so flawlessly.

the virtue of sadness

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 23:02:35 +0800

it’s good to be sad.

just sometimes.

it’s good to feel bad.

but not all the time.

it’s good to be sad.

you don’t have to put on a fake smile.

you don’t have to pretend you’re ok

you don’t have to hide feeling bad.

it’s good to be sad.

you experience life fully,

in every colorful spectrum

from passionate red down to gloomy gray

it’s good to be sad.

it’s not healthy to be always happy

there’s gotta a time when you feel shady.

otherwise, you should go see a doctor, immediately.

it’s good to be sad

you don’t have to what people will think.

you don’t have to fake it just for a wink.

all that matters is that you can still feel sad.

marble floors

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 21:55:34 +0800

everybody loves the cold side of the pillow.

okay, maybe most people.

i love the cold side of the pillow.

i would wake up in the middle of the night just to flip it to the cold side.

last night, however, my pillow met it’s rival.

my marble floor.

my pillow, who, for years, has been the container of silent tears, angry screams, dreamless slumber and blank-eyed stupor, got a co-worker to get the job done.

seems like a single, run-down, pillow wasn’t enough to contain the chaos of a petty little girl whose well of secrets and hurts run deeper than a well.

last night, my marble floor got all of it: screams, sobs, dreamless sleep and catatonic stares, on and off again.

boy, am i glad my door kept it all shut.

otherwise, father would have woken up and shove pills down my throat.

last night, what started out as a continuation of my duty as a partner in making a major plate ended up as an emo-fest even sorry, little, dramatical, fags of emotional, black-haired, people with eyeliner too thick, it already looks like eyeshadow, petty fake wrist slashing scars and ipods filled up with heartbreak songs, would cringe in the face of sheer emotion.

it’s been a while since i’ve been like that. ever since I’ve been on meds, the only major incident i had was me trying to jump off the stage or tanghalang bayan, as we call it, on school. got suspended for it.

last night, i was staring at my floor plan, trying to figure out where and what rooms should be in there. 50 seats down, 50 more. still gotta figure out the size of the kitchen. still gotta figure out how to indicate that the frigging tree would be a staircase.

*beep*

I got a text. it’s from my fiancé. as usual, giving me my daily overdose of affection and arms ready for hugs through subtle play of words.

I started imagining what life would be like if he and i came to the point where we lived in a single house.

it was wonderful, the thoughts are. pretty, even. I imagined waking up beside him one morning, going to bed with him beside me and then press repeat for 365 x (maximum variable number of years a person gets - childhood till the day I finally move in with him.)

hell, I imagined moving out to a bigger house, and then, have kids. I hoped they get his height and his slimness. I wish they’ll get his remarkably pointy nose, amazing artistic skills and soft hands. however, i do wish, too, that they get my fine straight hair, my almond shaped eyes and my fingernails.

but then, the doubts began to hit me. few people grow old pretty. few relationships stay strong in our society today. divorce, now more than ever, is a constant source of money for lawyers and therapists alike. adultery is, too.

powerful imagination is a double-edged sword. one minute, i was in cloud 11. the next minute, i’m at the deepest recesses of hell.

other women, the end of this relationship, problems, and the like, bombarded my mind like it was hiroshima and nagasaki. i so want me and him to end up with each other. but my head is filling up with what ifs and slowly, oh so slowly, I start to drown.

I tried to swim to safety, to fight back with happy thoughts and controlled breathing. looks like my life raft just blew like a balloon and I’m sinking fast.

before I knew it, i was crying. crying escalated to howling. howling was followed by throwing my stuff against the wall. everything i can grab hold of. my tech pens. my rulers, triangles, protractors, compass, ink, tracing paper, tube, phone and etc.

by that time, i was howling and sobbing, my face against the cold, cold marble floor, all the while soaking it with my tears, mucus and saliva.

i don’t know how long i continued to do so, but eventually my body got the best of me. went into hibernation all by itself. no choice, got to follow.

i fell asleep on the cold, hard, marble floor. i woke up on my bed, beside my taken-for-granted pillow. everything in my room is clean and superb. my pens, ink, compass, protractors, triangles, rulers, tracing paper, tube and etc were all in their rightful places. my cellphone lies dormant beside me.

i stared at the ceiling. i quickly sat up and prepared to get up, my feet hitting the cold marble floor. lost in trance, i don’t know how long i was staring at it but it was long enough to make my father pat me on the shoulder.

i look like a fool.

i am a fool.

aren’t all of us fools?

pompous is the person who thinks him/herself knowledgeable and places the self higher than other humans.

we know ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about everything.

what we know are all TEMPORARY TRUTHS BASED ON TEMPORARY SITUATIONS.

after death, we fade into blackness and never again experience the confused psychedelic high of hellish existence in this planet.

I’m a fool for acting like this. for typing this. for being like this.

am I to blame anyone?

of course not. I blame not myself. cells, molecules, atoms have no mind or own volition. rather, only predisposition. so can anyone really blame me for acting like i acted? i have no control over particles that have no mind to control with, for starters. also, their sheer numbers will make the battle a losing one even before it has started.

biologically, emotionally and psychologically speaking, I’m a mess.

i wish i can sleep on the floor more often.

unlike other materials, marble is quite easy to clean.

i wish i slept on the floor more often.

so that it will be easier to clean up a human mess lying on it

than cleaning a human mess

on absorbent, soft, brittle, cotton pillows.

Love is for Living II

Mon, 10 Sep 2012 21:37:36 +0800

by Adriel Lim

I do not want to leave this world,

To have lived and never have loved.
To have died and never have told,
Of a love like thus, so terribly bold.

I want to keep this simple and fair,
Tell it as love is, honest in care.
For Man needs a sincere love to hold,
For a Woman’s hand until they old.

Those are wings that bring them where,
Upon legions of stars, we only stare.
This is strength of the storied when,
This is my only need and gloried then.

I have seen my heart die, my eye, weep and my brow, fall.
I have seen them tear and topple and grieve my call:
I see that Love is clear, and hold that love is our,
Only to see that Love is dear, and wail that love is far.

So here, to stand upon our world, and lolling,
Take love’s cares and embrace only longing.
Death is knocking, beating and is not waiting.
Death waits no coming, and Love defeating.

Why, I seek love, among the firmest hearts.
Why, only it seem, love has never contented quartz.
T’is quartz, have I none to have in heart?
T’is Love, my frailty seeks to be of part.

Then Love and in love, shall Man be happy.
The Love and loved heart, content-ful and amply.
For blessed are the they, the mortal who have loved,
And blessed are who lived, for they were truly loved.

You see, I do not want to leave this world,
To have lived and to never have loved.
To have died and to never have told,
Of a love like thus, so terribly bold.

Trolol

Sun, 08 Jul 2012 04:33:37 +0800

Charles C.

Let us perhaps attempt
To understand
How to stand under
Bridges done upright -
Be the troll of the matter.

You see, many trolls
Are wondrous creatures,
Beyond incessant amounts
Of bargaining, of simplicity
Of high amounts of data usages.

I mean really, have troll shoes,
Put them on, see
What they’re like
And realize the complexity
Of what they achieve -
Conversation! Conversation!
Words, words, bumbling words!

Before you even realize it,
You lose your stomach,
But it’s probably due to hurling
A hell of a lot of bullsh-

Oh look, a bridge!

Under Your Wings

Fri, 11 May 2012 20:08:00 +0800

Yuki Giou

Ever since I could remember
You treat me ever so tender
Eyes gazing ever more at me
And love given unconditionally

You’ve chosen me with a purpose
You saved me when I was lost
Under fire my being was moulded
Tempered, formed and strengthened

You make me smile when I’m sad
Regardless if I’ve been good or bad
Whenever soft rain fall, I always wish,
”Let me serve; in torment and in bliss”

You know all about me – everything
Truly caring for my entire being
Though ungrateful and selfish I can be
You just love me for simply being me

Though waters or fire furiously surround
Certainly, comforts will always be abound
Please never, ever let me go on alone
Lest my heart end up being a stone

Surely, I cannot boast I’m the best
But I was chosen among the rest
That through me others may understand
Your loving ways that’s countless as sand

As I walk in this darkened world in fear
Please always be there to wipe my tears
Until the time I come to Your blessed side
Under Your caring wings I’ve come to hide

In Life and in Death

Fri, 11 May 2012 19:51:00 +0800

Yuki Giou

Being a nurse, in my opinion gives someone the opportunity to look at human life in a wider prospective than any other profession. One gets to see babies being born – the miracle and joy of a new life entering into this world. On the other hand, there are people who are in their very last moments – there are even patients who I was talking casually and in the next hour they will be pronounced dead by the physicians. There’s hardly a dull moment and one cannot really be a good nurse unless they are truly caring individuals.

These past few days I’ve been handling patients who have passed away under my care. It’s not that I did anything, but rather these patients died in order for others to live. When a patient is considered as “brain dead” and there seem to be a very slim chance of recovery, organ donation is considered. As much as I am a supporter of such noble aspirations, I ended up thinking when I realized how we literally kill a patient who’s near death in order to harvest his organs. After all, there had been cases of people who seemed hopeless cases that are now having rather normal and active lives.

Even just last night, I took care of a man who I was able to talk for just a short while. He was a really jolly fellow in spite of his inability to speak. He had a life-threatening condition that needed to be operated on, and after doing all the necessary things he was put to sleep and the surgery ensued. But throughout the operation, he had experienced major problems until finally the physicians declared him dead.

Whenever I see someone die I get mixed emotions. I feel sad because someone – a living creature – could no longer make wonderful memories with the ones they love. I feel jealous because I kind of want to die at an early age due to certain reasons. I feel happy because they’re no longer bound by the shackles of this world. And I feel worried about the kind of life they led.

For a person who believes that everything happens for a reason, I contemplated on what could God want me to learn from all of these events. So far, I’ve learned that life is indeed precious but we must not fear death. As the journey is as precious as the destination, one’s life must be lived until he reaches that final destination. But death is something that we must not embrace nor hurry towards to – otherwise we end up missing a lot of important things along the way.

In my life, I’ve lost count of how many times I have been on the edge of death. I’ve had accidents where I’ve seen other people don’t survive yet I didn’t get even a scratch. I’ve had many different illnesses yet my body still seems to be functioning quite well. And also, I’ve even tried committing suicide through drug overdose once out of extreme depression, yet not only did I survive drinking medications three times the dose that could kill me, I ended up regurgitating most of them and somehow my blood results ended up normal.

So you see, there is truly a right time for everything – especially the time to be born and a time to die. Though we perceive life and death and identify their meanings differently, I know we can all agree that there are lots of mysteries left unanswered about these two; both in life and in death.

BlueShadesAll

Wed, 09 May 2012 22:01:11 +0800

by BlueShadesAll

from Innocence, Peace, Delight,

Content and Bliss.

to Intelligence and Wisdom

to Technology, Awesomeness and Cool.

And even towards Darkness,

Mystery, Revelations..

.. Troubled Deep.

Amazingly Profound,

The Hue of Blue Shades it All. :)

Courting in the Courtroom

Sun, 06 May 2012 22:30:00 +0800

Lacus Clyne

“Why me?” I mumbled to myself. “I’m not even special. Why can’t my life be like anybody else’s?”

There I was, in the defendant’s bench. And you, in the witness’s stand. There your attorney, wearing his usual smart look paced around the room in contemplation. With my breathing becoming ever so slower, he asked that deciding question:

“Is it true that the accused attempted to steal your heart? Against your very will? Even beyond your own expense?”

I waited for your answer. And I guess it was very much anticipated.

“Yes,” you softly spoke as the courtroom was filled with buzzing.

Oh, how I miss the times when everything’s so simple…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Now it’s my turn to be in the frying pan. As I about the take my seat I was asked to pledge an oath to speak in truth - the usual drill.

I have absolutely no clue about my lawyer, but his smile sends comfort to my shackled soul. He asked the same thing your attorney did:

“Is it true that you wanted to steal that man’s heart?” he queried.

“I love him,” I said. “But his heart is his - is it even possible to force anybody to love you back? But all I did is ask if his heart is mine as mine is his…”

”But what can you say about the things he tell you now?”

I looked at your eyes - those reddened eyes that is filled with either hate or sorrow. People around me waiting in anticipation what I have to say.

“I do not know if those are what’s true or not. But what I do know is that I gave my heart to him in the past - that I profess I am guilty of and even in hurting him unknowingly.”

”Is there anything you wish to tell him and this courtroom?”

“Yes,” I exclaimed. “I want that person to know that standing opposite each other is not something I wished. Nor to stand and be tried for something I did not commit. I do wished for your love - but affections that are not given freely cannot possibly be love. All in all, I hope you realize that I am merely asking for our happiness and that truth if you do love me or not.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I’d rather settle things out of court. But perhaps I have no choice but to know the truth at the end of this life. Regardless, I feel like I’m imprisoned - both to protect myself and others as well. I wonder what the verdict will be…

Lover or Fighter?

Sun, 06 May 2012 21:56:25 +0800

Lacus Clyne

“Lover or Fighter?”
I’ve asked myself that
If I am teaching the world
To love or to fight

Then I realized
How complex we really are
That even if we chose one
Our actions deny us

There are those who love
With daggers in their hands
And those who fight
Using flowers instead

For there are some who fight
In order to love
And those who fight
Out of deep love

Then some out of love
hurt those they want to be with
Or perhaps in reality
They just love to fight?

And so I contemplated
Who do I want to be
A lover or a fighter?
In the end I chose to be free

Keep Up the Fight

Sun, 06 May 2012 21:52:08 +0800

Le Fever (2009)

Sometimes I regret
Taking the “red pill”
Even though it was wrong
To even have a thought of it

But it pains me when I see
That these people are happy
While I have no choice
But to walk the race set before me

Why have I been special? Why me?
Why must I endure all this pain?
Don’t know if I’m even allowed to bleed
When even whining about it frowns my Master

It’s wrong to think of changing my destiny
It’s wrong to regret being such a good boy
I’m insane for asking this stupid question
When people desires to be in my peaceful state

My stupidity tells me,
“If you want to be like me,
well then, let’s exchange places.”
Yes, it’s wrong, but should I lie?

I’m not a hero, not even a pinch of it
I’m the same frail, fragile weakling
Haunted by stupid dreams and wants
Yet apt to run a long, hard course

All my pain will only be on this earth
All my stupid desires shall be burned
Yet I whine for something I don’t know
When my reward for being good is near

There’s a sign before me that reads,
“There’s no turning back now, my friend
You had walked this far, my child
You’re near the end, so why give up?”

As my trembling hand holds me up
To grasp the sword I just thrown away
Till then, I must go on and move on
This lonely yet worthwhile fight

Dear You

Sun, 06 May 2012 20:41:00 +0800

tacticianjenro

We’re not who we once were anymore.
As time goes by, as the ages shift, so do we -
Change happens - even if, I kind of wish it didn’t.
Things we used to have fun doing, we no longer see as appropriate.
I remember when we used to create stories and adventures,
Write comics, and trade dueling cards.
Laugh at silly things, make fun of ourselves,
Not caring one bit for what other people would think, or say.
Yet as time goes by, as the ages shift, so do we -
Change just happens. And it did.
We never found time to chase fireflies like we used to,
And…we couldn’t seem to laugh at the silly things like when we were kids.
I guess we never play the Game Boy Advance we used to stay up late on anymore -
And oh, how we talked a lot back then about Fire Emblem, or Harvest Moon.
Change just happens. And it keeps on happening.
If only we could go back…
To things where innocence flourished,
where it was still possible to keep the pain and staidness aside.
If only we could go back…
To where friendships weren’t complicated,
To where we took deep value of having fun.
Resting.
Not caring at all…
If only we could go back…
But, I don’t think you would want to at all.
You’ve made your way through figuring out what it means
to overcome life and the complexity it contains.
After all, it’s just not possible to go back any longer.
After everything has changed, I guess,
all that remains is for me to seek hope
That I may be able to get through…like you could.
After everything has changed, I guess,
I’m better off being childlike on my own.

Yours truly,
Me

Not-so-blind date

Sun, 06 May 2012 09:36:59 +0800

MoodyFucktard

shit, I’m late. I’m so fucking late…

the clock in the LRT says 3:30pm. shit. I’m already 30 minutes late. goddamn, where is the train when you need it? shit, he must be waiting there. the train arrives. thank goodness. gad, it’s crowded here. at least it’s a bit cool here.I hope I get to the north station by 3:50pm. Gad, I’m so screwed.

ok, don’t panic. don’t freak out. starbucks in the garden. right. walk, walk, just goddamn walk, for chris’ sake! oh good lard, I’m really screwed.

shit. he’s there. oh gad…

“sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be late..”

“it’s ok.”

you smile like nothing’s wrong. it makes me feel like I’ve done something like a mortal sin. my knees are turning into jelly. gad, so this is what it feels like to be nervous. too late for the movie, you said. I’m 1 hour late. I see the empty pack of lucky strikes.

“naubos ko na. ang tagal mo kasi.”

my face, red with humiliation, kept mum. you know. like those big head statues at easter island. a minute later…

“namumula ka!”

you giggle and I can’t help but to join too. I proceed to explain why I was late. you genially tell me it’s ok. it’s starting to rain.

“we should get inside.”

“yeah.” was all I can muster. the rain drops are getting bigger. I walk a little faster.

“RUN!” you yell. and like a maniac, we run. we ran like kids in a park, playing. I bet people would’ve thought that we were these 5’0 nutgirl and 5’8 baldie running freaks.

we get inside. you ask me if I wanna eat. I told you that I can’t think and that you decide.

fast forward. eating’s done. we hang out to where we first met. I sit by the ledge and survey the surroundings. cool breeze, the smell of coffee and you beside me. perfect.

you excuse yourself. while you were gone, I grab a stick of menthol and light it up. inhale, hold, exhale, repeat. the coolness permeates inside my mouth as I spew the foul-smelling smoke away. one down. I reach inside the pack for a stick. light it up, I puff away. something bumps against me. it’s you.

“akala ko ba di ka maninigarilyo? you snickeringly say.

“di ako nakatiis eh.” I giggle.

“pahingi.”

you light it up and you puff away too. is it me or this just feels right? we begin to talk. as the smokes kept coming, the conversation got warmer. soon enough, we were playing with each other; pushing and nudging each other like we’ve known each other before. then you began to tall corny jokes. I was guffawing non-stop coz it seemed so awkward that such cheesiness could come from you. as the convo got longer, we sat a lil bit closer, till I was literally resting my head on your shoulder.

I could stay like this forever. the awkwardness is gone. you feel like an old friend yet the only difference is that you like “like” me and the same goes for me too. you say you need to get to the other mall by 7:45pm. your parents are waiting there. I look at the clock. 6:45pm. ok, one more hour. as we smoked every cigarette away, we talked about a lot of stuff, that if there was a couple of the year award in our group, we’d win it. another downpour of cheesy lines. I dunno about you but if I seem so uptight, it’s coz if I say it, I mean it… and at this time, I don’t really know what I mean.

time really flies so fast. we didn’t even do much. we just talked and teased. before I knew it, it’s 7:45pm. we got down the ledge and walked. as we made our way to the other mall, we saw a lot of couples doing pda. like kids, we picked on them. 5 minutes. we had to part ways. no hugs, no kisses. just a simple hand squeeze. and off we part. you melt into the crowd. I melt into the darkness.

For Death Parteth Us Not

Sat, 05 May 2012 20:18:49 +0800

Kikyo

How long has it been
When I lived a simple life?
Since young I had been
The envy of quite many

Gifted by the gods
I had sworn to protect
A gem, a jewel, an orb
Of immense and terrible power

One day you came confidently
An enemy to steal what I guard
But when I know I shouldn’t had
I spared your life, or was it mine?

How did the times roll?
You always followed me around
And so we talked and shared
Perhaps more than what’s allowed

We were both deceived
And in death, I hoped for peace
But now that I again walk this earth
I shall finish my task ‘till my spirit cease

Finding the Utopia

Sat, 05 May 2012 20:12:01 +0800

Arturia Pendragon

I still remember
When I drew that holy sword
And made a covenant
To rule in justice and truth

Difficult was the way
I traded feelings for strength
Happiness for courage
Loved ones for honor

A king’s path is a lonely one
Full of bloodshed and scandals
As if it’s not enough to ask
The support of one’s followers

As I threaded that path
With bladed victory in my grasps
I noticed not the bodies upon yonder
Making mountains in once were fields

And so I humbly ask
That may my history be re-written
That the weight of the throne be given
To someone who is better than I

And so I will slumber
Until the time I will be summoned
Clinging that I might find one day
That utopia where my heart lay…

The Perfect Spiral

Fri, 04 May 2012 14:25:37 +0800

by BlueShadesAll

Empty Spaces; Hollow Hearts.

Once filled to brim, and Made its Mark.

Now Half is Dried,

I fall Apart.

I cease Exist.

I lost that Spark.

A Void that Swells Consumes my Heart.

When All was Well;

When All was Ours,

I Sang in Praise of Heaven’s Harps…

But Darker Days from those Lighter Darks,

Left me Astray,

Seeking a Way.

To fill the Mark.

Back

to the Love I used to know.

Letter

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 22:07:15 +0800

MoodyFucktard

Dear you,

I wasn’t able to sleep quite soundly for over a week now. damn, these valium pills aren’t working anymore, i guess. of course, when the dark covers you, boredom hits you too. so, my mind flits to random memories. it just so happened that in this particular night, I suddenly remembered you. all our memories. and how can I forget that fateful day that changed us. I never really considered what the future will be and how to deal with with the consequences. but I’m fine with that. after all, what’s left to do if not to accept it and turn it to the way you want things to be?

the clock blares out 2:54am. I’m still not sleepy. since there’s nothing to do, why not reminisce? I remember the campus so vividly. I can almost touch the falling narra flowers, raining down like a yellow monsoon. I remember our building; the place that bear witness to all of our times together. from the very first hello, down to our last goodbye. all those days spent on schooling intermingled with naps and snatches of laughter. I see the park, resolute in it’s forest-like glory. the memory of our walks together hit me so fast, so vivid, that it’s like I’m experiencing them for one more time. I watch you do your thing; listen to you breathe; laugh at your jokes. we used to walk till the last rays of the sun shine on us. sometimes, we watched. sometimes, we didn’t. it matters not. my favorite part is to witness the dying rays of the sunset hit your face. I failed to notice that these simple pleasantries harbors such a joy to me.

3:15am. my coffee is halfway gone now. but somehow, I still can’t sleep. Gad, it’s sooo hot these days. as expected of a summer night. how I wish it was december again. then it hits me again. the campus looks more beautiful at night than in day. twinkling christmas lights hang on every tree. the park is totally aglow with yellow, incandescent light; the perfect place for lovers. the chilly weather adds up to the reasons to cuddle and hold hands.

I looked at my cellphone. 6:59pm. December 16 2010. you said you’d be here by 6:30pm. you got something important to tell. I sat on an empty bench, alone and cold. I remember thinking that I should probably get home now. I stood up and to my surprise, I felt two arms gliding from my back to hug me. I turned around and saw you. you closed your eyes. a heartbeat later, your lips where against mine. i stood there, startled like a deer in headlights. this is too good to be true. I closed my eyes, inhaling your perfume, tasting the sweetness of your lips. a heartbeat later, it was over. and, as if nothing happened, we did what we loved to do the most: walk.

you were saying how happy you’ve been recently, that you felt better than ever. that in the months that passed by, he found himself, completed and fulfilled. that he knew that the love of his life loved him too. I listened, my heart thumping so hard that I thought if i open my mouth, it would surely spill out. I was scared. you suddenly went silent and I noticed that you stopped walking. “won’t you ask me who it is?” you said. I can’t move, let alone speak. finally, I manage a tiny “who”. you smiled and took out your phone. you pulled me close and i saw the picture of a man i never knew. about 20, i guess. “yes. I love him.”

3:48am. my eyes are starting to sting but not because of the urge to close them. I suddenly found myself crying again. i know. It’s been a year and a half since that happened. but I can’t deny that the wound is still open. it’s still there, festering like a cheese spoiled and filled with maggots. to watch him do his thing; to listen to him breathe. four simple words was all it took to raze my hopes into ashes. It’s not that I’m bitter. I’m grateful it happened. it changed him. it changed me in more ways than i can count.

4:01am. I’m still trying to find my way. you have your whole life mapped out with him. it looks like he’s there to stay for good. well, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if you love me too or not or if you love somebody else. let’s just say I’ve reached the point where that doesn’t matter anymore along with other people’s opinions and mine too. after all, Risk is no Obligation, Love is no Responsibility.

4:30am. I guess I should sleep now. it’s time sleep again. to go back to that black depthless void of dreamland. staying up late makes me type gibberish. Till then, sweetheart.

love me.