Gone ahead?

hey, look--
colored my fingernails
with a purple
crayon. it's weird,
uneven, but creative.
it's like i'm
always freezing
cold. like i need
my hands held.
like i had gone
mental and pounded
on them with a
hammer. sort
of like nail polish,
but not dark.
tomorrow, it'll fade.
it'll be gone. i
would've rinsed
my fingers well
by then.
tomorrow...
i think i'll try green.

-april 29, 2002-
-9:55 PM-
-living room-

Hallucinations

you, a champion
unicycle rider--
with your silly grin
pasted forever on
your fair-skinned face,
are nothing but
a memory.
your sense of
balance, a mere
idea from the
back of my mind.
your courageous efforts
to make the world
laugh--
just hopeless dreams.
your hair smells like
sandalwood, shining,
golden locks straight
out from a fairy tale.
my hands long for it
like a lover would
for a passionate kiss.
you, my chavatah--
a vision.
a dream.
a memory.

-april 28, 2002-
-10:50 PM-
-living room-

****? ick.

everything seems fine now.
gradually, you don't exist.
you DON'T.
but, it's certainly not enough
to stop pillows
from being tear-soaked at nights
it's not enough
to make me forget
the lies, the egg-ons--
that infatuated look in your eyes.
love is never an interesting
center of poetry.
it cramps up my style!
so, better you don't exist.
you DON'T. i guess...

-april 24, 2002-
-9:00 AM-
-g205, DLSU-

Nonsense

even i--
a silly old string
hanging from your
favorite shirt,
wonder why this
is a big deal...
you wear me like
a fashion trend.
as if very soon,
people will start wearing
strings from their shirts.
but hey, don't think
you can't pull me away.

-april 14, 2002-
-8:11 AM-
-pc-

Stopping in the Middle of the Sahara

for Him who went Away

Looking into a mirror, I see
A face so unknown...
It stares back at me
With his eyes so full of
Confused, red lines
Each blink as if slow-moed
By tme.
A stranger who looked a little
Bit like me, but still unknown.
I had a clear picture of what I wanted.
Now, I can't even stand
Staring into a mirror
Because I know not
What I see.
I still wonder if it's me.

-March 27, 2002-
-7:26 AM-
-McDonalds Taft-
-from a piece of yellow paper-

Creative Juice

for Miko

How does it feel to be the dirt underneath your nail?
I know you can't kick the habit of
Chomping on them, tugging on the cuticle sticking out.
I'm right where I want to be, in your mouth,
Swimming with the rest of the ingredients that make you YOU.
You never stop till there's nothing left to chew.
The ragged ends of your fingertips bring smiles.
I'm gone, in you, never again coming out.
But then again, nails do grow back.
So will I.

-March 5, 2002-
-10:40 AM-
-Java Café, DLSU-

Jesus, is it morning already?

for Gelo

He's in your mind.
Ridiculing your useless thoughts,
Picking on your average-sized brain.
He's right there with a passive grin,
The fellow whom Memory jumped over.

Small talk is bliss.
Ducks and penguins floating about,
Over absurd heads of great minds.
He walks the dark streets of Remembering,
Without a concrete destination, without a flashlight.

Hey, fellow that time forgot,
I, too, live in the Now.
Everything's coming back to me.
It's nonsense, but at least it's real.
Take care of my confidante.

-March 5, 2002-
-10:10 AM-
-Java Café, DLSU-

The Everlasting Gobstopper

also for Miguel

You are hard.
My jaws clench trying to reach
Your core,
Cast into oblivion as I taste
Your tutti-frutti flavor.
You are colorful.
You change every forsaken second,
Trying to pinch my curiosity
Even more.
You are something.
I never expected, I never thought I wanted
For myself.
You are incredible, a creation of a
Truly "Creative Mind".
Created to make people happy and content.
You are the Everlasting Gobstopper.
You will never disappear
No matter how hard I try to
Forget your existence.
Give me eternity
So I could work my way into
Your sugarcoated heart,
Colorful and sweet.
Cast me once again into oblivion.
Give me time to recover from
The hardness I've experienced.

-March 4, 2002-
-2:53 PM-
-Chess Plaza, DLSU-

Tired Dreams

The collapsible wooden chair
Sits lonely by the ravaging sea.

Blue-green froth emancipate from within
The reef flowing with seaweed of brownish hue.

And the big, pink, hollow sea shell,
Cracked by rough stones and bleached by the sun,

Still holding the secret voice of the North Wind,
Is waiting to be heard by a weak, sensible and innocent ear.

The frustrated Ego then decides to let go.
He accompanies the collapsible wooden chair, no longer forlorn.

The Ego's tired, bloodshot eyes
Notice the blemished pink shell from afar.

He stoops down real low to pick it up.
Hesitation commands him to do not what he means to.

The Ego, armed with non-belief for the inevitable
Chucks the old, worn-out shell into the gloomy, fearsome ocean.

It sinks down to the bottom, where reality does not exist.
The voice of the North Wind muffled by loud sirens of fair beauty.

The Ego, still an Ego, walks away with a satisfied heart.
The collapsible chair sits lonely again.

-March 4, 2002- -
1:00 PM-

So what?

Dogs have it so easy--
They take a piss anywhere
And shit all over the place.

No need to keep up
It's its own master.
Abundant T-bones for dessert.

Bottom-to-bottom they connect--
They find love
Shameless to this mortal coil.

They don't take their own baths
Hordes of mutts infest the earth
Pungent stench are lilacs to them.

Dogs are dogs--
They are animals. Not alone.
Not ignorant. But so easy. Damn.

-March 4, 2002-
-9:35 AM-
-Sports Complex, DLSU-