Tag Archive: loneliness


Resuscitation


Was it right over left or the other way around? He clutched one hand with the other over the unmoving chest— it doesn’t matter, just pump the shit out of it.

One, two, three, four… he should have paid more attention, but there’s no use arguing with himself about it now. Man, if this worked, he’d be a hero. If it didn’t—

Two days ago, in the toilet, he was just imagining this exact same scenario. If he did die, would he feel anything? Maybe regret. Maybe frustration that he didn’t feel the feelings one does in the situation. Definitely guilt.

Has he succeeded in completely numbing himself? Does that make him a terrible person? Less human? But, he shed a tear with that slightly forgettable advert, out of the blue. Why don’t the feelings ever come at the exact moment they’re supposed to?

He checks for a pulse, pinches his nails to check for circulation. Was it appropriate to say “hey, hey, are you okay?” It just seemed awkward.

How long has he been unconscious anyway? Not so he can gauge the chances of resuscitation but because he wanted to make sure it was acceptable to stop trying.

What went on in his mind was not a feeling of sadness, or fear, or helplessness. It was a familiar non-feeling. It was an awareness that something was absent- a something that did not leave a hole, but would have made the moment richer, or more important.

It was this awareness that kept him within bounds. That kept him from crossing over into the region of social disorder.

He went through the motions automatically. He didn’t realize that there was a faint beating where his fingertips touched his wrists and the color on his lips moved from purple to blush.

Then suddenly- he gasped for air, then coughing and then tears. His hands clutched him and he held out his arms, cradling him as he should.

“I thought I had lost you.”

“I felt my life passing before me.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t come to.”

“But I did. I’m here now. I love you.”

“Sure.”

Goodnights


The wind machine drones off into a lullaby
and my weary eyes have met the force of gravity.

Your image is projected on my eyelids

and my mind knows it will find no sleep.

You ask me why i never lay beside you,
why i never lie at all.

And i know you know it’s for fear of dreaming,
because awake we do live on.

I crave your every meaningless expression–
The affected effort to touch my heart.

The words uttered with
meaning escaping,

and leaving the nasal baritone as proof.

You do have eyes for me.

And your mouth and feet,
they seem to follow.

Never your hands.

And never my eyes.

You stand ever so close,
Fists clenched.
And i stay
Eyes unflinched.


Natupad lahat ng gusto mo.

Maraming salamat Jo.

Mahal kita palagi

GUSTO KONG MAGING…

ni Joren Reysoma

Gusto kong maging
Lapis sa pagitan ng yong mga daliri
Kapag sumusulat ka ng tula
Na puno ng dalamhati

Gusto kong maging
Tasa ng kapeng dumadampi
sa yong mga labi
O alak na gumuguhit
Sa yong lalamunan

Gusto kong maging
Paborito mong awitin
Kulay, laro, salita
at gawin

Gusto kong maging
Liwanag sa yong mga mata
kapag ikay tumatawa
At maging dahilan ng pagtibok ng yong puso

Nais kong maging
Lupa na iyong lalakaran
Hangin na iyong lalanghapin
Salitang iyong bibigkasin

Nais kong maging
Araw sa yong himpapawid
Buwan at bituin
Upang masundan ko ang yong bawat galaw

At kung ikay mahihiga
Gusto kong maging
malambot na kumot
Na ibabalot mo sa iyong katawan
Maging unan na iyong hahalikan

Ang huling bagay
na papasok sa yong isipan
Ang huling salita na
iyong bibitawan

Gusto kong maging
Tagahabi ng yong panaginip
Maging musa mo, maging kanta mo
Maging pangarap mo
Maging alaala mo

Gusto kong mabuhay
Sa loob ng yong isipan
At syang pupuno sa yong puso
Ng init at pagmamahal.

Shhh…


inspired by bjork

 

The blanket of Night.

I am caught in self-embrace.

Wonder where you are?

 

 

Morning After


 

Naked:
I pick your clothes
As I sift through the ruble
On the floor
Separating yours from mine
Noting the spot
On the carpet
Tainted wine.
The stench of cigarettes
Invade my mind
With that gaze you made
That beckoned me
The bump and brush
That signalled the beginning
Of all these on the floor
In your bed
In my head
I wish my ease had not misled
You to think
That I would dread
To wake up next to you
Every awkward hour
From today.
I fold your clothes
And stack them neat
While you dream an else
In your deep sleep
I put on mine
Without a peep
And take my leave.
Something else is beginning
With each step I’m taking
This possibility I’m holding
Of us
Of you
Waking
And seeing the magnitude
of my pining,
Stacked at the foot of your bed.
I wish you’d see
That I could be
The one you’re dreaming of
Instead.

Villanelle: Almost Another Chance


 

The past returns to us tonight,
Beside you in my lonesome bed.
I wish the past had seen delight.

When you told me we don’t feel right
You were just too broken, you said
The past returns to us tonight.

Wished I could make you see the light
I found in you when we started.
I wish the past had seen delight.

It would have been a lovely sight
Your heart in my hand all mended
The past returns to us tonight.

I’ll be the one who’d hold you tight
You chose to be alone instead.
I wish the past had seen delight.

Now all we have is this one night
But you have left me too wounded.
The past returns to us tonight,
I wish the past had seen delight.


 

goodbye

short, swift

coming, laughing, crying, going

five lines for five weeks.

goodbye

Farther


 

If along the way
Of you leaving me
You pause
And think if the next step
Is a step farther away
And not closer,
As you hoped
To your happiness–
Do not look back.

I cannot guarantee
That I will not beckon.

And,
If it so happens
That you felt yourself
Farther,
At that moment,
Keep walking.

Keep walking
Until you find me.

Until you have gone so far
That you are behind me.

So that I may consider–
As I hope you are–
If I should look back.

Beans


 

It’s not for the tiny hairs on my nape
That rise to the occassion
Of your touch
That I am moved
By you over the universe that is my bed.

Nor the faint but hurried whisper
Of the ticking clock
(Our time together)
The second second gallops
Like a horse in the clouds-
They should be silent-
But they rumble
Like my heart.

Not the gray sky
At 5AM that ushers the smell
Of the neighbor’s breakfast
When the warmth of your
Sleeping arms begin to gather dew
Against my skin.

Nor the smell of the sun
On your hair when you wake
And realize that you spent the night
Again
Without meaning to–

Because you cannot bear
Deserting me.
Not when I am a naked seed that
Craves the earth of your embrace
That springs in the morning
A two-leafed shoot.

It’s when you wake
And realize that you
Don’t belong here
A seedling grew
Where there shouldn’t be.
You till me
Like the soil strewn
With your clothes across the floor.

The swift imagined pain
I feel when you rip yourself
Off my chest

Mimicking a sting
In my heart.

Die Hard


 

I awake to the sweetness of your deserting
Scalp raw where you tore off clumps of my hair
A stinging manifestation of how I cannot get you off my head.
On my sheets, the bloodstains have dried a rich chocolate color
Summoning the rest of my sap to flow forth.
My lips have the familiar taste of rust where you bit them.
I lick them and it is your tongue that I am reminded of.

You adorned my skin with bruises,
Just now turning royal purple against the black and
blue and yellow of days before.
I trace their patterns, pressing here and there as
I do with embroidered silk.

The aching becomes your fingers caressing me once more.
Like a love song, your curses ricochet in my ear.
Each syllable of profanity sending pulses of heat through
my body to the beat of a tango.

I am the clay whereupon you leave your imprint.
I am the vessel that turns your sweat, your saliva, your
urine into wine.
I am the well from which you draw sanguine nectar.
I am the bough you break to partake of the forbidden fruit.

My flesh is your ambrosia.
My tears are your precious gems.
My pain is your delectation.
My cessation is your genesis.

Should you feel the urgency to heed the carnal calling,
Pick the flesh I left underneath your fingernails.
Or return to this fetid bed

Where I will lie half-conscious and dilapidated,
Where I will corrode slowly in the mixture of our semen,
Where you will love me nonetheless

As I will you.