there's a party in my graveyard
of course you're not invited
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Everything is too fleeting and it is
Killing me
Sometimes it's there sometimes it's nowhere
Like a glitch
Nothing to hold on to
Not the past
Nor the future
The present, maybe
But the past is more vast
The present is too fast
It's like my whole lifespan is a one time series of effervescent
Like a bubble bath
It's gone, it dissipates before my eyes
Because
Really
Why
Why need there be a reason
Killing me
Sometimes it's there sometimes it's nowhere
Like a glitch
Nothing to hold on to
Not the past
Nor the future
The present, maybe
But the past is more vast
The present is too fast
It's like my whole lifespan is a one time series of effervescent
Like a bubble bath
It's gone, it dissipates before my eyes
Because
Really
Why
Why need there be a reason
What gym and school have to do with it
If you are considering going to a shrink for your depression
I recommend going to the gym
It is full of positivity that wont make you puke because
You need it
You need to be healthy
I havent been going for some time because
I had exams
Now they have passed and i have not gone back yet
And now that i mostly have my mind too empty
Unoccupied
I feel depressed
I thought it would be a good thing
To have a break
It isnt
I cried a lot today
Listening to tonight you belong to me in 'the jerk'
I put a blanket over me
My mom could still hear me and she asked
Why did i cry
I hate it
I didnt know because nothing and everything
Sucks at the same time
Pisses me off at the same time
I need to pee
I recommend going to the gym
It is full of positivity that wont make you puke because
You need it
You need to be healthy
I havent been going for some time because
I had exams
Now they have passed and i have not gone back yet
And now that i mostly have my mind too empty
Unoccupied
I feel depressed
I thought it would be a good thing
To have a break
It isnt
I cried a lot today
Listening to tonight you belong to me in 'the jerk'
I put a blanket over me
My mom could still hear me and she asked
Why did i cry
I hate it
I didnt know because nothing and everything
Sucks at the same time
Pisses me off at the same time
I need to pee
Saturday, December 1, 2012
WAS IT THE BEST FUCK YOU'VE EVER HAD?
i think i have some hormonal problems
i can't do that, you know, i will touch my genital or something
you lie down on your belly and slightly turn up. wait, are you a virgin?
so you like my dick huh? take it. take it all you want. it's your gift.
sorry, you should've told me earlier..i could go gentle.
do you like torture?
are you stoned yet?
i'm cute, but you're...you're really hot.
give me a kiss and i will tell you the name of the band.
you're hot
it is nice..and wet
you look so frightened
you're so horny
oops sorry, was it the ass?
you should be grateful you know.
let's be fair. take off your panties. nevermind. you look cute in panties.
no blowjob but yes to kissing and tits sucking?
i need to come.
can you do it longer this time?
just once?
sorry, was my dick too big..too painful for you?
i love you.
jesus you're so weird.
i think i have some hormonal problems
i can't do that, you know, i will touch my genital or something
you lie down on your belly and slightly turn up. wait, are you a virgin?
so you like my dick huh? take it. take it all you want. it's your gift.
sorry, you should've told me earlier..i could go gentle.
do you like torture?
are you stoned yet?
i'm cute, but you're...you're really hot.
give me a kiss and i will tell you the name of the band.
you're hot
it is nice..and wet
you look so frightened
you're so horny
oops sorry, was it the ass?
you should be grateful you know.
let's be fair. take off your panties. nevermind. you look cute in panties.
no blowjob but yes to kissing and tits sucking?
i need to come.
can you do it longer this time?
just once?
sorry, was my dick too big..too painful for you?
i love you.
jesus you're so weird.
Wanna do some pleasureable activity, maybe, idk, just something nice other than fiddling with an idleness, which is okay as an idea, but maybe not today
If not, if its too much to ask for, besides the weight of your body pushing against me could be, could be too precious sometimes
I would be just all the same entertained, or maybe only slightly less, by just a wink of sleep
If not, if its too much to ask for, besides the weight of your body pushing against me could be, could be too precious sometimes
I would be just all the same entertained, or maybe only slightly less, by just a wink of sleep
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Monday, May 28, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
the absent perks of being a parent
i do not think there has been enough sadness to drive my writing in this world,
but occasionally there is. there is no other greater force, and it's not like i enjoy being sad, or i would like to be sad, or i take comfort in being sad (although sometimes i do admit to have indulged in the familiar comfort of the company of soaked pillowcases, and in the the comfort of the company of a spring mattress that has reshaped itself, has been pushed to its bottom because someone's been trying to bury herself forever there), but this kind of emotion has been blessed with a prosperous flow of things and thoughts that ring the innate alarm, which begs to be called off, or written down, or pinned down immediately like no other emotion will ever come with. perhaps it's the urgency, perhaps it's the hunger too. perhaps there is something else in sadness that cannot be deciphered unless i take the initiative to first lie everything down and clear first.
i have been having disturbing dreams lately, which i refuse with all sincerity to call them nightmare. you call the dreams of ghosts, of walking slippers, of dark rainbows nightmare but my dreams are none of those. they do not try to scare me away, to wake me up in the middle of a hectic absence of light; they just try to project their version of reality. warn me of an imminent tsunami of problems that attend temporary solutions convoluting the existing problems that reject my effort to diminish their existence. perhaps my subconscious is being kind or perhaps it just gets a little afraid it feels like, it has a hunch that for things to get better it could not cut me some slack anymore even for a second. it might have been trying to tell me that my guard has to be up whenever a rose still smells fragrant even under a different name, how it still would have always been had it decided to dislike and disrobe its name.
today i took a nap, except that it was almost evening not afternoon and the weather was perfect although i still closed my windows tight. i woke up not wanting to do anything but either write or shed some tears, which would have been difficult had i tried to combine them together. so i chose to be realistic by telling my tears patiently that my eyes might not be the best place to inhabit but it would be best if they choose to roll back to their dwelling i provide up here, because otherwise my vision would be blurred, my laptop keypad stained and i could not write. so i stopped crying and i walked down the stairways and asked my father whether my shoes package has arrived. my steps were clear and light enough but i could never see myself beyond those because i was not wearing my contact lenses and could not see my reflection on the mirror.
and my dad asked me whether i have been crying,
and he asked me whether it was my mother,
and i told him that i have not, and i told him that it was not,
and he told me, "you look sad."
and i said, "ok." and made my way up to my bedroom.
a few minutes later
my mother swung my door open without knocking on it like always, as if claiming a little of my space, as if disclaiming my privacy, as if saying that a child's privacy has never existed even before the age of silence and should never do even after the age of glass.
and then she asked about my brother's comic books that were lying on the wooden floor. they were in japanese.
"does he even understand this," said her.
i shrugged my shoulders as i finished the first few paragraphs of this writing.
"you didn't come to school today?"
i told her that i have an exam tomorrow so i would like to study.
"why did you cry?"
and she began to make a list of things that might have made me cry and utter them to me. me? boy? school? stress? i almost shattered by then, and my head shook with the world. mom, i can't tell you now because i have a test tomorrow. she pressed me for an answer casually but my eyes never really left the computer screen. she does not understand english, and is currently taking a basic course. finally she retreated back to her bedroom.
after waking up a few thoughts gathered in my head, gravitating towards my brain like children flocking a santa claus in flame red suit.
and i am trying to catch the remaining here:
1) i do not want to have a child or children.
2) to think that i am capable of raising a child or children is beyond naive, or foolish, and stupid. and i will try to not think of it again.
3) when i violate the first point i will give myself a permission to slay my head, and no one a permission to witness the blood sputtering from the bulging veins on my neck. (i initially suggested that perhaps i should just call myself 'crazy', but everybody is nowadays. 'crazy' is the new 'moral'.)
because to raise a child or children, you need a flair beyond all humane capabilities. and i think i do not have one. i used to think i did. it was a bad thought. and amongst all the endless qualities required to parent a kid/kids, the obvious and the not obvious ones, here are some:
patience
and tolerance.
what makes you think that you can handle your future kids' lying, a possible sign of disloyalty, if you always vomit an unsurmountable amount of complaints whenever you friends or your lover cheat on you? or lie a little about whom they are actually having their lunch with. well, maybe you can get used to that. be immune to your kid's lies. you tolerate them. but how much? how much would you deem tolerable? too little means giving restricted freedom, too much means a possibility that they would detach themselves from you, and another array of possibilities with no dead end.
what makes you think that you could make a better parent than your parents now are?
(we really like to think that we are more important, more capable than we really are. i think.)
what makes you think that your kids will grow up understandably, better in some aspects you hope them to be, good at things that we have not been?
what makes you think they will not have a hard time liking their parents? what convinces you that they will learn? they will accept?
it takes not just understanding, kindness, flexibility, open-mindedness to raise a child. sure, i've seen successful parents. but they have something that i don't.
well.
i do hope that i will learn more and change my perspective one day. just like how i refused to see myself as a mother when i learnt that my mom washed my butt after i defecated back in my childhood days before i thought that perhaps it would not be so bad. i wash mine everyday, and why can't i see my kid as a little part of me? but it's easier than having a kid who thinks that s/he is a part of you.
through this i can imagine our civilization coming to an end, with everyone having bad dreams and having their previous desire to raise a kid dwindle. people will use protective measures whenever they make love to their lover even after they get married. aside from career, humans will have more reasons as to why they do not want to have children (see we need to talk about kevin). oh, it's okay, we will not go extinct because every other person on earth will think of having one or two, they would say. but everybody would say the same thing and what they refer to as everybody, is eventually nobody in the end.
do you get me? do you? tell me that you do even when you don't. my kid will spend his/her miserable life trying to find someone who retorts a firm yes to this question, and will finally pretend that there is at least two, which is his/herself and his/her lover, when there really is no one who could really understand; because it is easier that way. because when someone says yes, i do at the wedding altar my kid will assume that it also means, yes, i do get you.
but sometimes what eunice said is true, that
i do want to have kids with you.
maybe not now. maybe later. but not never.
it's crazy. but crazy is the new moral.
maybe this is why our civilization won't end very soon.
but occasionally there is. there is no other greater force, and it's not like i enjoy being sad, or i would like to be sad, or i take comfort in being sad (although sometimes i do admit to have indulged in the familiar comfort of the company of soaked pillowcases, and in the the comfort of the company of a spring mattress that has reshaped itself, has been pushed to its bottom because someone's been trying to bury herself forever there), but this kind of emotion has been blessed with a prosperous flow of things and thoughts that ring the innate alarm, which begs to be called off, or written down, or pinned down immediately like no other emotion will ever come with. perhaps it's the urgency, perhaps it's the hunger too. perhaps there is something else in sadness that cannot be deciphered unless i take the initiative to first lie everything down and clear first.
i have been having disturbing dreams lately, which i refuse with all sincerity to call them nightmare. you call the dreams of ghosts, of walking slippers, of dark rainbows nightmare but my dreams are none of those. they do not try to scare me away, to wake me up in the middle of a hectic absence of light; they just try to project their version of reality. warn me of an imminent tsunami of problems that attend temporary solutions convoluting the existing problems that reject my effort to diminish their existence. perhaps my subconscious is being kind or perhaps it just gets a little afraid it feels like, it has a hunch that for things to get better it could not cut me some slack anymore even for a second. it might have been trying to tell me that my guard has to be up whenever a rose still smells fragrant even under a different name, how it still would have always been had it decided to dislike and disrobe its name.
today i took a nap, except that it was almost evening not afternoon and the weather was perfect although i still closed my windows tight. i woke up not wanting to do anything but either write or shed some tears, which would have been difficult had i tried to combine them together. so i chose to be realistic by telling my tears patiently that my eyes might not be the best place to inhabit but it would be best if they choose to roll back to their dwelling i provide up here, because otherwise my vision would be blurred, my laptop keypad stained and i could not write. so i stopped crying and i walked down the stairways and asked my father whether my shoes package has arrived. my steps were clear and light enough but i could never see myself beyond those because i was not wearing my contact lenses and could not see my reflection on the mirror.
and my dad asked me whether i have been crying,
and he asked me whether it was my mother,
and i told him that i have not, and i told him that it was not,
and he told me, "you look sad."
and i said, "ok." and made my way up to my bedroom.
a few minutes later
my mother swung my door open without knocking on it like always, as if claiming a little of my space, as if disclaiming my privacy, as if saying that a child's privacy has never existed even before the age of silence and should never do even after the age of glass.
and then she asked about my brother's comic books that were lying on the wooden floor. they were in japanese.
"does he even understand this," said her.
i shrugged my shoulders as i finished the first few paragraphs of this writing.
"you didn't come to school today?"
i told her that i have an exam tomorrow so i would like to study.
"why did you cry?"
and she began to make a list of things that might have made me cry and utter them to me. me? boy? school? stress? i almost shattered by then, and my head shook with the world. mom, i can't tell you now because i have a test tomorrow. she pressed me for an answer casually but my eyes never really left the computer screen. she does not understand english, and is currently taking a basic course. finally she retreated back to her bedroom.
after waking up a few thoughts gathered in my head, gravitating towards my brain like children flocking a santa claus in flame red suit.
and i am trying to catch the remaining here:
1) i do not want to have a child or children.
2) to think that i am capable of raising a child or children is beyond naive, or foolish, and stupid. and i will try to not think of it again.
3) when i violate the first point i will give myself a permission to slay my head, and no one a permission to witness the blood sputtering from the bulging veins on my neck. (i initially suggested that perhaps i should just call myself 'crazy', but everybody is nowadays. 'crazy' is the new 'moral'.)
because to raise a child or children, you need a flair beyond all humane capabilities. and i think i do not have one. i used to think i did. it was a bad thought. and amongst all the endless qualities required to parent a kid/kids, the obvious and the not obvious ones, here are some:
patience
and tolerance.
what makes you think that you can handle your future kids' lying, a possible sign of disloyalty, if you always vomit an unsurmountable amount of complaints whenever you friends or your lover cheat on you? or lie a little about whom they are actually having their lunch with. well, maybe you can get used to that. be immune to your kid's lies. you tolerate them. but how much? how much would you deem tolerable? too little means giving restricted freedom, too much means a possibility that they would detach themselves from you, and another array of possibilities with no dead end.
what makes you think that you could make a better parent than your parents now are?
(we really like to think that we are more important, more capable than we really are. i think.)
what makes you think that your kids will grow up understandably, better in some aspects you hope them to be, good at things that we have not been?
what makes you think they will not have a hard time liking their parents? what convinces you that they will learn? they will accept?
it takes not just understanding, kindness, flexibility, open-mindedness to raise a child. sure, i've seen successful parents. but they have something that i don't.
well.
i do hope that i will learn more and change my perspective one day. just like how i refused to see myself as a mother when i learnt that my mom washed my butt after i defecated back in my childhood days before i thought that perhaps it would not be so bad. i wash mine everyday, and why can't i see my kid as a little part of me? but it's easier than having a kid who thinks that s/he is a part of you.
through this i can imagine our civilization coming to an end, with everyone having bad dreams and having their previous desire to raise a kid dwindle. people will use protective measures whenever they make love to their lover even after they get married. aside from career, humans will have more reasons as to why they do not want to have children (see we need to talk about kevin). oh, it's okay, we will not go extinct because every other person on earth will think of having one or two, they would say. but everybody would say the same thing and what they refer to as everybody, is eventually nobody in the end.
do you get me? do you? tell me that you do even when you don't. my kid will spend his/her miserable life trying to find someone who retorts a firm yes to this question, and will finally pretend that there is at least two, which is his/herself and his/her lover, when there really is no one who could really understand; because it is easier that way. because when someone says yes, i do at the wedding altar my kid will assume that it also means, yes, i do get you.
but sometimes what eunice said is true, that
i do want to have kids with you.
maybe not now. maybe later. but not never.
it's crazy. but crazy is the new moral.
maybe this is why our civilization won't end very soon.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
child milk
'happy new year, are you okay? are you happy?'
someone's dad; someone important, someone who had once or twice, or perhaps has--still, everyday meant a lot to me. it's okay time to gulp the words back, previously thrown up down the sewer system for the whole world to see, sometimes words that i refuse to get along with don't always mean hypocrisy--people change with time, c'mon--okay i forgot what i wanted to write on this part, really, but it should bounce back to me in any minute.
so, well, idk; she's a stranger too so i don't think this is a fair play. perhaps she exerts 9999x more energy on 'this girl', in sending you e-mails 'you're brilliant nat' 'have a good day' 'xx'while i couldn't somehow bring myself to that. wish i could tell her look at me, i do not have blank eye for you, this is a reflection of pieces of you pierced deeply into my cornea with a gust of wind, a blow of dust every time i want you to stare in. lurk around here. but you're not around. well ok i didn't reply your last e-mail, i don't know what else to say. but won't you once write first to me
sometimes your absence smarts.
i look at your friends, pretty and amazing; pretty amazing
one of them is very good at writing too
belongs to the 'creative scene'
stalked her. opened her facebook page
she is very. pretty,
i mean. really
i looked at her mom, she's pretty too
'average pretty'
perhaps i'm like the mom too but, i wonder about the joy slash the misery of having a child you can be proud of
is it really contagious? the goodness? the joy? the pride?
what does it feel like to have a child
if let's say, she's pretty and all--i mean my child
what should i be happy about
there's no 'X IS MY DAUGHTER' scrambled over my forehead
why should i be happy, as i don't feel her; well maybe once when she's in my womb
child, what does it feel like to have a child
who can't feel and remember until she grows up
'children amnesia'
what does it feel like to wait for something that may or may not ripe?
will i really be happy if my daughter is happy
what will happen if she, let's say, accomplishes what i have always wanted to?
will i feel accomplished too
having a child doesn't make sense to me.
i don't get how children's success etch beautiful scars on parents' faces.
anyways nat
you topped your whole class
i'm unworthy to send some congratulatory message
idk
maybe i just don't want too. maybe i'm envious HOW COULD YOU HAVE THEM ALL
i think you laughed your way down the spaces between my words
did you?
'linguistic incapability'
you know it's not
'lexical gaps'
also,
happy birthday
you're 20.
today? yesterday?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
i walked into my father's room, asking for extra cash 'bear with me until february' i say
'be careful of things you ever think of stepping on'
and i feel tired.
he knows, deep down, but he won't ever accept this
because it's not only a technical matter
you see,
we're talking about faith
do i have one?
do i seem to have one?
is faith like hymen
some people are born with it
some survive without it
some lose it along the way
is that my dad's concern
i closed my door
and i felt, now still feel very tired
i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired
'what are you tired of'
blobs of sweat tears and sea salt
it's nothing compared to your giant life but
can you taste them at the tip of your tongue?
someone's dad; someone important, someone who had once or twice, or perhaps has--still, everyday meant a lot to me. it's okay time to gulp the words back, previously thrown up down the sewer system for the whole world to see, sometimes words that i refuse to get along with don't always mean hypocrisy--people change with time, c'mon--okay i forgot what i wanted to write on this part, really, but it should bounce back to me in any minute.
so, well, idk; she's a stranger too so i don't think this is a fair play. perhaps she exerts 9999x more energy on 'this girl', in sending you e-mails 'you're brilliant nat' 'have a good day' 'xx'while i couldn't somehow bring myself to that. wish i could tell her look at me, i do not have blank eye for you, this is a reflection of pieces of you pierced deeply into my cornea with a gust of wind, a blow of dust every time i want you to stare in. lurk around here. but you're not around. well ok i didn't reply your last e-mail, i don't know what else to say. but won't you once write first to me
sometimes your absence smarts.
i look at your friends, pretty and amazing; pretty amazing
one of them is very good at writing too
belongs to the 'creative scene'
stalked her. opened her facebook page
S.E.Wee
with a family portrait pasted to her wallshe is very. pretty,
i mean. really
i looked at her mom, she's pretty too
'average pretty'
perhaps i'm like the mom too but, i wonder about the joy slash the misery of having a child you can be proud of
is it really contagious? the goodness? the joy? the pride?
what does it feel like to have a child
if let's say, she's pretty and all--i mean my child
what should i be happy about
there's no 'X IS MY DAUGHTER' scrambled over my forehead
why should i be happy, as i don't feel her; well maybe once when she's in my womb
child, what does it feel like to have a child
who can't feel and remember until she grows up
'children amnesia'
what does it feel like to wait for something that may or may not ripe?
will i really be happy if my daughter is happy
what will happen if she, let's say, accomplishes what i have always wanted to?
will i feel accomplished too
having a child doesn't make sense to me.
i don't get how children's success etch beautiful scars on parents' faces.
anyways nat
you topped your whole class
i'm unworthy to send some congratulatory message
idk
maybe i just don't want too. maybe i'm envious HOW COULD YOU HAVE THEM ALL
i think you laughed your way down the spaces between my words
did you?
'linguistic incapability'
you know it's not
'lexical gaps'
also,
happy birthday
you're 20.
today? yesterday?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
i walked into my father's room, asking for extra cash 'bear with me until february' i say
'be careful of things you ever think of stepping on'
and i feel tired.
he knows, deep down, but he won't ever accept this
because it's not only a technical matter
you see,
we're talking about faith
do i have one?
do i seem to have one?
is faith like hymen
some people are born with it
some survive without it
some lose it along the way
is that my dad's concern
i closed my door
and i felt, now still feel very tired
i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired
'what are you tired of'
blobs of sweat tears and sea salt
it's nothing compared to your giant life but
can you taste them at the tip of your tongue?
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