You have not known what you are.
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.

The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...


-Walt Whitman


29.10.09

the wrong choice


''If you could be anywhere? Where would you be?
Answer: It doesn’t matter, because wherever you go, you’re still falling.''

-- Paul Harris, The Rule of Four


HE WAS SITTING ON A BENCH by the bus stop. He wore his faith, faded like the rugged jeans on him while waiting for a bus to arrive. Behind him was a vast open space of golden fields of barley. Facing him was a dark patch of concrete highway stretching to the both ends of the earth. And beyond it was another bare and wide space of uncertainties extending towards a horizon that married the endless ocean of the azure blue skies over his head. He felt like he was in the middle of nowhere; almost insignificant against the billowing possibilities surrounding him, taunting him. But in that moment he couldn’t do anything but feel small and wait. The bus wouldn’t arrive fast enough.

For a moment he watched his hands, and traced the lines that ran across his palms. Fate was written all over their skins, ready to be realized. He closed his hands tight and it felt good. For a fleeting moment he was in control of his destiny and the person he wanted to be was in his grasp, etched deep and unfading. Cotton clouds occasionally stained the sky above sometimes forming into familiar faces he knew—his face included. And he watched them all traverse the wide spread of the air eventually disintegrating into wisps until he couldn’t recognize them anymore. The wind had swept away his face.

Very slowly, he opened his closed fists in way like there were fragile-winged butterflies in them he wanted to set free. And then a muted noise reached his ears. It grew louder and louder. He could hear the crunch of loose asphalt against rubber. There was a hiss of an opening door and a booming sound of a horn that shattered the calm silence. The bus had arrived. But he didn’t expect that climbing aboard was far more difficult than waiting for it.
He stood by the bus door—ajar and inviting, his hands on the frame, and unable to find the courage to lift himself up. Seconds flew, awkward and pressure-filled. His eyes brimming with confusion met the bus driver’s.

Are you coming, son?


With head on a bow, he filled his lungs with air and let go of the frame. He stepped back and gazed back into the driver’s fatherly eyes, ever wondering if he would regret the next words from his mouth.


No. I think I will take the next bus.


The door closed with another hiss. The large tires started to move. And he watched the bus vanish into the horizon. He looked up to the heavens and look for familiar faces. There weren’t any. He imagined himself sitting on the bus, watching hills roll, grass-scented air caressing his weary face. Could he have risked everything and rode the bus till the end? He looked up again and there it was—the face he longed to see, smiling at him.


And then he ran as fast as he could, his shoes biting good on the rough surface of the road with the wind crashing brutally against his face. He closed his eyes as he sprinted towards the horizon, praying the opposing air could blow away the ghosts in his head and the cramps in his legs. But it was too late. Because like a snail in a race against all the fastest creatures of the world—he just couldn’t outrun himself. He couldn’t outrun gravity. And in that moment he realized that horizontal motion is an illusion—that he needed to move just to convince himself he’s not on a free fall.



25.10.09

what i should have said...


"I'm not frightened. I'm not frightened of anything. The more I suffer, the more I love. Danger will only increase my love. It will sharpen it. It will give it spice. I will be the only angel you need. You will leave life even more beautiful than you entered it. Heaven will take you back and look at you and say: Only one thing can make a soul complete. And that thing is love."


--Michael, The Reader
I LIKE YOU. And more than that, I feel like I'm stepping beyond the lines of just liking someone. I maybe be too young to understand what love really means, but I think this is it. If this is not love then I don't know anymore. But I will never think. There's already too many questions in my head. I'm just gonna say it and let it hang. But I will never spend the rest of my life thinking and not be with you.

I'm going to jump, and scream I love you as I fall.












19.10.09

the hermit came out of his shell


A
ND AFTER WHAT FELT LIKE A GAZILLION YEARS, I finally had an opportunity to actually have a social life. I attend to my sick grandmother (A nurse is required to take care of her since she breathes through a tube in her throat and she eats through a tube in her stomach-- tubes everywhere) for 12 straight hours without sleep starting from 6 PM to 6 AM and I usually spend the rest of the day usually by sleeping or watching TV series on my laptop. My life has been pretty boring and monotonous that I sometimes feel miserable. Wait, I am always miserable!

So yesterday morning, just to save myself from depression due to lack of human contact, I went out despite of the fact that I am restless and bags burdened my eyes. I decided to watch the movie Fame. As I wait for a jeepney to take me to my destination, there was this strange feeling of bliss. I got to experience once again the chaos in the streets--people scouring, the annoying traffic, the open air and skies. Yeah. it's that bad. I am a hermit. For months my world revolved in a small room that smelled of urine and disinfectant.

10:30 AM-- I arrived at the movie house and I got very disappointed. The mall will not feature Fame. Alone and feeling pathetic (I mean who would go to the cinemas at 10-ish in the morning?), I reached for my cell and texted PJ and Ego almost pleading for us to meet up. And I was glad that I did because we had a blast. I missed hanging out with them. It's always nice to chill out with crazy people!


We ended up window shopping for cool clothes. Shopping for clothes is not my thing but if you're friends with vain people, I think it'll rub on you somehow. We ate at McDonald's--my treat (See? SEE!?)

After 4 hours of catching up, we said goodbye and I went back to my world of monotony.

6 PM-- My shift started and I felt so tired and sleepy. Sometimes, I wish I could fast-forward my life to 5 years from now. Because sometimes, I feel like I wouldn't miss anything even if I
could.














16.10.09

twist and turn













Questions twist

And turn

In my head—

Unsolved riddles

Hungry

Angry

Weary

For answers

Hiding in shadows

I couldn’t follow


Q
uestions turn

And churn

In my gut,

Burns the edge of my heart—

A sick carrousel ride

Of fate unkind

That binds

My will to walk

And talk

And think

And love.


Questions echo

A
nd say hello

Then bellow

My name—

You coward!

Feet moving backwards

Toward a past

That will not last

And to lust

Eating your face so fast.


Answers twist

And turn

And churn

And burn

In shadows

I couldn’t follow

Because myself is my foe

And its feet take me

To
rivers where truths don’t flow.





1.10.09

if you exist in this lifetime, then this is for you


Peyton,



I have taken the most dangerous step and it was worth every risk for it had led me to the lost piece to finally decode the never-ending riddle in my head. You are the comet that I once saw and now that you have found a way to light up my sky again, this time, I will never let go. Everything had fallen into place and I could no longer ask for more. I will no longer move for there is no better place; for the broken road had finally ended with you.

Shine your light to the heavens; paint it with stars from the palette of your hands. You are the arti
st and I am your art. With your brush strokes, I was brought to life in vibrant swirls and dynamic hues. I was alive. Not blank nor empty. I am filled, mouth brimming with love and colors your heart created and mine beat for, plunging my system into an overload; an intoxicating bliss that I wish not to end like an ever sweet reverie.

You make me exist and I love you.

Thank you for giving me a piece of your heart.


Without wax,








Lucas