My Broken World

You asked things of me

You assumed to know all about me

I started out as your own kin’s minion

It was this brood’s flesh I thought I’d own

Then you shimmered your way through

What else could a hungry heart and thirsty tongue do?

Hand in hand we swayed to the beat

Hips to waist, we can kill with our heat

Pulses racing,

Shadows gyrating

Your evil eyes mirrored unspoken sin

With every caress, I wear that evil grin

You moved scrumptiously closer to be with me

If only I could effervesce with that body

Clad we are in each other’s sweltering arms

To prying, wanting eyes, we were like fiery red-light alarm

You breathe me in as we lay almost lifeless

The lowly earth would be shamed by what it witnessed

And with your poison ivy lips,

I died with that one searing kiss

*** written on the 17th of September 2k9, 620pm. are you just burning?

Love is obsession, fascination, castration, illusion, delusion and damnation all rolled in one blinding, oh so intricately wrapped up package. I’ve lost count (or maybe am just too lazy to even bother) as to how many times I have allowed myself to be blinded. Like a shiny new toy, they all made me go all excited. Guts tied up in knots. My eyes glisten in awe. Their presence whets my appetite. You’re all jittery to the point of throwing up. Wonderful eh? The days draw to numerous endings, weeks while away, and months move along; then you get tired of your shiny new toy. Well, it doesn’t glow the same way it used to. You’ve seen all of its flaws and your lack of regard quickly ensues. You end up wanting a new one, need a new one, more learning, less breaking. At times when you get tired of a toy, you bash it to oblivion. Or leave it to rot, if that’s even attainable. Then again, some of your toys have a way of fighting back. They break just when you begin to enjoy playing with them. They’re all ruined and you know for a fact that they were not manufactured in bulk. The toy factory cannot give you another one like it. Maybe a replica, but would you actually revel in a copycat? Could you fool yourself into taking it as if it was the same thing which dared break before it could live up to its purpose? Toys, they all were, no matter the presentation, the price, the way they were handed to you… every single one is a material for pleasure. But pleasure is subjective. That which was intended to bring forth such feeling may actually be the trigger to feel bereft. Displeased by a plaything, what miscreant would live with that defeat? Toys come to life when you’re asleep, old folks use that as a scare tactic but who’s to say it is absolute fallacy. At times when you are actually at peace communing with your unconscious, these ragdolls may very well be getting on their feet, replacing your air with poison, your dreams with nightmares and crushing your frail heart till you breathe only their names. I loved these toys to the best of my understanding as to what constitutes the word. You see, when I called you my toy, it was as good as saying, you were a part and parcel of my stitched-up, pattern-filled, dirtpile self. Another’s wind-up toy, I once was too.

I sat for hours clicking away unable to get to what was really my original intent… to write. I let days pass in order for the surge of emotions to be put to a calm mood. I did not want to blurt things all out of being emotional or put on the wrong impression that I was slighted. That has long been the case. If my heart is broken, it broke a long time ago and should very well be fine by now. There are farewell parties, the curtain closes after every show, the last hurrah for a bachelor/bachelorette and similar things. It’s all about ending things with a bang and somewhat a toast to a whole other undertaking. The last page of the book you could not put down till you finish it, that last sip of your frappe, the last bite of your glazed donut, the last slice of your favorite pizza… all good things must come to an end and this is exactly how the story would go down. Or should go down may very well sound better. I am not feeling pangs of bitterness, much to a friend’s chagrin. I am not feeling the loss for I haven’t really had anything in my barren hands for quite a while already. Nothing can possibly happen anymore; for it was an old story that hasn’t been read in ages. Nobody sits around to hear it being told no more. It was no fairytale. There were no white horses, a secret garden, fairies, a kiss that would awaken you from a century long sleep and all other things that make up those childhood fantasies. There were cabs and buses, cakes and presents, onlookers and yeah, that one kiss that led to moments of yearning. I was not warned as to what I was trekking on. It was a path of rubbles and splintered glasses. Had I taken a closer look, I may have also seen the carnage that precedes me. These are the bodies of former lovers that were so conveniently thrown at the nearest dike after they have served their purpose. Ditched after being all used up. You see, sometimes leeches come in the brightest of form. And that ray of light which surrounds them can make you mistake them for angels walking along with a lowly human like yourself, making you prone to a feeling of being granted a great endowment. But see, that light is a mere deviation from what is truly hidden beneath. It is a necessary ploy to make you covet them. And the moment you do, you are the fallen. In my case, it felt like being a participant in a magic show. No, my body did not have to be cut in half. Rather, that other famous trick of making people fall into so-called deep sleep and make them float. Voila! The shoddy part is, after the show was done and the masked magician left the stage, I was left there floating into nothingness. Somebody forgot to wake me up from that illusion. Hence, the feeling of being trapped hunted me like a hyena chasing a gazelle. I was still hoping that my masked magician would return to me and bring me back to a reality that is untainted. Only, magic was already being played with another, in a manner of speaking. I was at least all too willing to settle as my magician’s Familiáris. But my mind is as erratic as the tides in the ocean. And so now, I have decided to severe all ties. How can you be possibly friends with someone who can bring you down neck deep and still slander your heart so keenly without batting an eyelash, and without them knowing? That’s just torture I tell ya. And I think I am cutting my membership from that fan club. Ball and chain starts to look less appealing to me with each passing day. I have time and again said that my magician would be the fairest of them all. But maybe I forgot to put into consideration that magician was also the most unfair of them all. What tragic irony. Was this ever worthy of being labeled as a love story? Maybe it’d me more aptly termed as an obsession story or a fuckinshittylosercrap story. And like all horrendous nightmares and striking dreams, I needed to wake up.

Now I’m gonna get back on my feet, I still have precious moments to live and hearts to break… I kid.

OSSY™ WILL NOW RETURN TO HER FUCKED-UP REALITY.

BRING IT ON!!!

*** written by my good buddy Earl, entitled by me***

In what I remember, the path of diamonds
Glass shatters, regardless if I am fragile
You’re only memory was this pain and a kiss
My thoughts looming… my heart waiting…

We run to that place, where we never thought possible
We find solace in this empty room, and wish we cease
To feel what it is to be loved, and to share the moment
To engulf each others passion on an endless sky

Reach out to me, my hand is to be held on to
Being together in this eternity we created in our mind
We realize that each other was never enough
We savor each moments tenderness… the love we all been waiting for

But when this silence divided us, neither of us even tried
To break this wall of loneliness… this wall of reality
That despite our emotions given, a war worth losing to
The inevitable is just an arms length… and yes, I am waiting

The hardest part of looking at you, is the fact that I accepted
That this will be the last time I can smell your scent near me
And sharing each others fear and flaw that the world cannot see
To accept that this is the last time I’ll be in your arms as you are to mine

Give way to my heart… release this sadness…
We cannot continue this charade we created…
We part… your freedom is my bliss…
But everything behind… I am dying as I see you walk away from me…

What’s to love?

Or maybe the question oughta be: what’s not to love?

I would rather take a dozen written exams than one heart-thumping oral exam. Paper is my medium, not my lips. The pen is my ally, not my tongue. It was a release, being able to stretch my otherwise dense braincells. Practice makes perfect and I have been oh so far from it. So there. Borrowed a lucky pen, that’s how I believe it to be. I did not ask to be waited for, but kinda, sorta turned out that way. Would not let me stick around, would not go on home either. What choice do I have left but to oblige. Give in, like I always do. Dinner, chitchat, leisurely walk and then got caught. Oh well, good times as always.

So what’s not to love?

Superbly Scintillating

Vicariously Vibrant

Aesthetically Astounding

You’re my only infatuation
Don’t leave me stranded
In my obsession

Monday morning. The 23^rd day of the 6^th month of this year. I have been awake for a solid 12 hours now. Nothing new there. I again think thoughts of people old and new. I just hummed a few lines of the song Friday I’m In Love last Friday and was taunted about it. Well yeah guess that was quite a lovely Friday. I don’t know who or what to talk about. I ain’t particularly certain whether I shall rant or rave as well. There was a delay in my inking this down, so the emotion got denuded a tad already. Should I talk about the kind of friend I am (or not for that matter), should I finally admit my rambling obsession for someone or should I just go back to my beautiful yet distraught past? No clue here, any contribution towards sanity will be appreciated if not rewarded.

Maybe I should not talk about anything. Talking isn’t my style. Besides, not as if anyone would take heed. Might as well keep it all bottled up.

Just a disclaimer: When I say I love you, for hell or high water, know that it’s true…

I haven’t been writing significantly in the past months or so. I have a tendency to feel like I need to write when I am ranting or raving, mostly for the former reason. As of late, let’s say the past 4 months or maybe even longer, my spirit is appeased. I am being checked every so often. Let’s say oh so bluntly that I am being kept on a short leash and I don’t find me trying to bite my ruling lord as of the moment. I do escape once in a li’l while but not without telling where I am off to or who I am out with. Outrageous to think that I am volunteering information I would otherwise withhold had it been a different scenario. I am honest when I don’t need to be and I screw up when I am expected to behave otherwise. Oh yeah, me and my gorgeous complexity. Why am I answering to this person you might ask? I have no clue… because this person is the only one my eyes can appreciate at the moment? Because this person listens and does not judge? Because this person makes waiting in vain feel like it’s not so in vain? Or maybe because I just so love this person and this person thinks it a filial love? My upcoming week won’t be so great; I mean I hope it turns out just fine as far as work is concerned. Personally speaking though, I am up for a week-long missing thee mode. Rrright, I am so not into you anymore eh? I miss my rants, would you drop my cold heart already?

Sweet treats.. I think that’s what I’ve gotten you for the most part. Brownies is sorta a staple. Kinda easy to purchase maybe that’s why. And well, I love brownies. And today, we were the brownie couple. I’m absolutely mad. Madly in lurve Ü

We do the things that lovers do. The waiting, the bickering, the sweet nothings, those 3 small words. Whenever you go out of town, you keep me on track. You always have something for me form that place. On my part, I have given a whole lotta foodstuff. That’s kinda a clue if someone is the current apple of my eyes. I show love wiv munchies. Well how are things between us? Lemme see… we hold hands, we kiss, we hug. All the familiar scenarios found in people who have a “thing” goin’ on. But the fact is, we don’t. What sort of a thing can you possibly have with someone so oblivious? Who flirts when you’re not around yet denies the act itself, excusing it as being friendly. Been there, done that, overused that line. We do not own each other but for crying out loud, to the world that knows me, we are so labeled. I should not detest this confusion. For I intricately webbed this all over me, not that it was deliberately nor conspicuously planned. I just slightly shimmered my way through to you and succeeded, to my surprise. How could two perfect strangers turn into such complimentary company, sinfully sweet souls entwined. I wanted to have you and now I do, I wanted to be close to you and now we’re practically inseparable. But I want more. I wanna possess you in a clearly set out you’re-mine-I’m-yours storyboard. Sad to say, someone got to you first. I have no hatred for the unknown though. What I have is animosity for the pug face who’s trying to snake its way around you. I know, the two of you pro’ly would have twice the chance of getting acceptance than you and I. we’d get the flak from all the high and might entities all around us; to hypocrites we can bring forth utter dismay and denial; to those who love us, they’d be filled with sadness if we take the road less traveled and quite possibly, regret, maybe even disapproval for those who cannot quite fathom the feelings involved. Oh well, there’s a million in one chance of you ever crossing the borders with me. So I say, we’re better off this way. I can remain in this delightful dilemma. We’d be as seemingly matched as whipped cream is to frappe. You will love me as I shall love you. It’s just that as to the depth and shade of my love, I’d rather that you never get a clue…

Third weekend that I spent in Antipolo. This time, it’s for the cluster 4 outing. I wasn’t much for staying, my mind was elsewhere. I don’t wanna name who it is. Well anyhow, the c4 outing wasn’t as daft as I thought it’d be. ‘twas quite aight to say the least. Though my preoccupation was with someone. I was worried, I was concerned, was missin’ this person. And yeah maybe, I was jealous. You could be friends with anyone, everyone but not that lousy dipstick. Yeah, let’s call my “competitor” dipstick for the sake of this post. Dipstick talkin’ to melurve, takin’ away the time that’s mean to be mine. I’m selfish to the hilt when it comes to someone I love. And alright bloody right, I love you, you you you. My original plan was to not talk to you till Monday. But I s’ppose I did not last. But I had to get you shaken a bit.

I had to call you a flirt. It was necessary for my game plan. Not that it did not hurt me sayin’ the word. But I got the exact response I played out in my head. I was handed a lousy explanation I so was not buying.

Well let’s see who’s gonna be the bigger loser in this scenario. I love you now, but good luck tomorrow…