...

There are monotone rabbits jumping, pacing around inside my head. Three, four, maybe hundreds, I do not know. I do not count. I try to catch each of them, beg them to keep still… My body lay on the bed resembling a forlorn petal whisked by the harsh wind. There is turmoil, increasing in size, between my temples. It clouds my vision, exhausts my eyelids. I want to surrender to this lethargy in complete awareness, and abandon. Send all of my senses to sleep, sink into oblivion. Forget to wake. But the rabbits keep me conscious—alert, triggering the throbbing sensation I’ve been denying.

The bleak white light put shadows into hiding—behind mirrored objects. The faint smell of cigar penetrates my nostrils. There is a sound coming from vehicles below the street orchestrating a medley of roaring engines and things passing. The sound. The sound. The sound confirms that time is still running. The world continues to orbit—as I remain static. Except for the rabbits prancing and bouncing. I attempt to wrap them in darkness, imagine them dispersing, vanishing….

I spiral down in a trance.

mornight

saturday. a minute after six

the gray light

formed luminous shapes

behind the drapes

whilst deathcab
sang a plead

through the speaker subdued 
by a caterwaul

                of aircondition

weary from letters, the eyes

and mind was near collapse

transcendental,

is languishing between

                time and space

                real and imagined

shadows and figures

what was for breakfast?

a glass of water, left-over bread

and cigarette, perhaps

...

She moves like the devil in panties
Flinging  hopes as if it were confetti

She gives you a fantasy nothing more
For everything in her has been lost

In an abyss not of broken things
But rather whole

So whole there is no space for
A void you yearn to fill

Her heart is not stone cold
It simply do not exists

Or so she tells that she is well

But you know, yes you know
She will give up all that is left

If anyone, if only someone
Can find her soul gone astray

...

Today, my professor told me to find darkness.

She asked, “can you write when you’re extremely happy?”

No, I can’t.

This should be my schedule then.

1300 Wake up

1400 Still in bed. Eyes wide open. Pondering on early morning existential crisis.

1500 Open laptop. Sigh heavily whilst looking for Envi NGOs (Adelle’s someone like you playing in the background)

1700 Have breakfast/lunch/dinner

1900 Drink… leftover wine from New Year’s Eve

2100 Take bath. Sober Self.

100   WRITE FUCKING ANYTHING. JUST WRITE.

Seducing words have always proved to be difficult, transforming nuggets subconsciously picked up into productive ideas more so.

Being coherent enough to be understood by one’self is a struggle,

Especially when suffering chronic mind fog.

Solitude may have well been a gift rather a consequence of anti-social abilities.

Can I command myself

“Today, you’re going to spend two hours reliving each misery, pain, hurt that you’ve ever felt. Resurrect the monsters that wreaked havoc to your self esteem and devastated the core of your being”?

...

The world is so beautiful. Why would anyone want to destroy it?

**

When I'm done with grad school, I'll go back to El Nido and work as bartender (half serious)

***

I wish I can just

Swim all day and feel the sun’s heat penetrating my burnt skin

The same way I would’ve just spend my day

Drinking from the richness of a poem and bathing on all thoughts, ideas – deriving pleasure from being inquisitive enough

To stay glued on theoretical books as

Useful as jeggings to a mermaid— reading just because, for aha!

In the world of adults, productive idleness is most expensive.

perpetual loop

For what could be more tempting

Than embracing a cold bed

Succumbing to idleness letting

Thoughts drown in whispers

Of orchestrated solemnity played

By murmurings of air-conditioning

Fading engines of morning starting

And furniture mocking stillness

Yesterday promising of repeating

Scalding bath replacing

a mother nagging

when one’s too young to give up

saving what’s long been dead and loving

art, sounds which refuses to be tamed

Everyday

moving heedlessly from one task to the next and

back again until tomorrow waits no more

and you remarry the mattress.

-->

There is a fish gasping for air in a too little pond devoid of oxygen

She/He swam and swam and slithered when it reached the bog.

YOU, YES YOU.

...

  To quiet my thoughts, I put my earphones in full ear-breaking blast.

...

The thing about love is, like anything else in the world, it’s irrational.

It comes unexpectedly to fill you with hope and passion. A natural high caused by something oddly familiar but not quite the same. You wake up one day knowing you can’t live the same way again without the person.

The thing about love is, it goes away in the same manner. You wake up one day knowing you can’t live the same way again with the person.

Love is supposed to be magical. A chemistry-induced electrifying experience that leaves you breathless and mad. Love should take your feet above the ground as you touch the sky.

Dead poets have written about it countless times, an unbearable cliché to some.

Love is friendship on fire. If the flame burns out, it becomes no more than security.

There are different variations of love,

Comfortable love,

Compassionate love,

Selfish love.

Not knowing which kind is a suffering on its own.

Love, overrated and complicated as it can be, makes us more human than we ever were. 

Delirium moment

want to have dinner but too tamad to move

“no regrets... just love..”

Anybody can stop being anything anytime

Why do people want to go to boracay before transitioning to a new phase in lyf?

15 mins ago i’m so excited about my talk for tomorrow. now im too tamad to revise the poweroint

‘Excuse me while i kiss the sky’ i thought it was a beautiful line until i found it’s about getting high pla

A: What made you fall in love with me?

D: You’re smart. and weird.

A: and?

D: You’re unpredictable.

How do you explain the link between deforestation and climate change to gradeschoolers? I need them to understand greenhouse effect and water cycle. the latter is easy. What about carbon footprint?

Cheap pizza tastes good when you only had two waffles the whole day

P.s. sometimes i dont like using punctuations readers should know when to breate

taralets

Dear David,

This is for you. Where do you want to go???

Beach? Anywhere cheap? :(

I need to soul search again. Don't worry, I won't quit my job this time.

Love,

Ai

hyadnj laweu odadhg!

Sometimes I feel like an alien.

Not because someone recently said I look like one. 

Have you read Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis? (yes, you. YOU who accidentally read this post)

Its more than a person transforming into a beetle,

Its about  alienation.

x