Tag Archive: scene


Move with ease, the heart contains a thunderbolt: exciteable and exciting and exacting like Zeus’ cleaver.

It draws a void across my heart to bring you forth– my half, my other, myocardia.

Let the zephyr of my daydreams take you away, the nights in my day, permanent fantasy.

I will steal fire and let it burn on my hand to light you up, my forbidden man.

I blaze.
I glow.
I ash
And disappear



Ang buhay, ika nga, ay parang tele-serye.

 Here’s a day in the life of Day and me.

 Introductions: Si Day, matagal ko nang bet na pinakilala sa akin ng bestfriend kong si Peewee, na ex ni Coco (7 years sila) na nakilala ko sa Singapore nung nagbakasyon ako dun two weeks ago.

 Day: Uy Coco really really really likes you…

 Doni: Of course he does. I remind him of Peewee.

 Day: Yey! Soon to be couple na ito!

 Doni: Nyek. May boyfriend na ko.

 Day: Kung ang asawa nga naaagaw boyfriend pa kaya? Hahaha.

 Doni: Ano ba, engaged din si Coco no. Adik to. Saka kung iiwanan ko yung boyfriend ko, para lang yun sayo. Hahaha.

Day: Engaged lang pala. I can ruin that engagement with just one snap of my finger. Anyway, sinong past time naman ‘yang sinasabi mong boyfriend?

Doni: Hindi siya past time at wala siya sa social radar mo dahil isa siyang outlier just like me. Bwahahahaha

Day: You said you’ll leave him for me, so he’s just an ‘effin past time.

Doni: I said that to humor you and because I know you’ll never want to end up with me… Duh…

Day: Weh. Ganun pa din ‘yun.

Doni: Think what you want, Day. Don’t be jealous.

Day: I’m not jealous babe. You already made me feel better earlier by saying that I’m the only person that can make you leave your boyfriend. And with that, I’m already satisfied. So no need for me to think much. I love you Doni. Mwah!

Doni: Hmmmmm… Hollow pathetic little lies. If you really want to get with me, then you should have. Now it’s too late. Too bad.

Day: Nah. What’s too bad is you’re with someone who happens to be just a past time. And you thinking that he’s not is the hollow pathetic little lie. And it will be too late for that guy to realize that. With that I rest my case. Peace!

Doni: What’s bad is that I’m with him instead of you. And you’ll never know how bad it is because you were never and won’t ever be with me. And it’s your fault. Don’t feel sorry for my man, Day. He gets to be loved by me.

Ang arte ko na.

Ang ganda ko pa.

(Pero iniisip ko kung ako ba talaga ang nanalo sa sagutan naming dalawa…)

For Ian


A coldness slumbers in my stomach.
Malaise journeys through my limbs,
Led by your inverted torch.

(To think I’ve never considered suicide-
Pride, maybe vanity.)

The world is a hollow place
That it begs adventure.
A lifelong game of hide and seek
With you, the dark cupid:
The never-ending sleep.

You are the cherub
Oft-spoken but never seen.

The tender,
Perverted youth
Of Night,
Come to me now,
Sword in sheath, black heart
And butterfly kisses.
Promising what I know to be nothing
But feel as everything-
Everything I always wanted.

This affliction,
My addiction,
This steep climb
To certainty.

That of my life, With you,
Condensing into these
Precise moments
Slipping through time.
Moments I’ve long conjured
In my mind.
And taken wing,
Fetching me with
swiftness and sweetness
Of concluding.

Loving you-
A lock of my hair
Falls upon
Your waiting palm-
Will be the end of me,

So let’s begin.


Revolution at the Square


Posing for inspiration
I make out your form
Across the vast square
Where figures of revolt
Stand frozen with
Passion in their expression.

I curse my vision
For its incapacity
To make out
Your face. I rely on
Imagination to paint a smile
Directed towards me.

Judging from the way
Your arms hold on to the pack
Resting on your lap,
I surmise that I fit you
Or that you fit me
(Or both) perfectly.

The statues’ frozen

I wish you were likewise.
Frozen in the space
Interchangeable, this square
My house
My couch
My bed
My heart.

Instead you stir-
Prepare to leave.
And while I journal
Our imagined encounter,
You vanish.

How beautiful
We could have been,
Adorning a vast square
Like this.
Passion in the expression.

In revolution.


Jade: …I’d definitely want to see you again soon.

Me: I don’t blame you.

Jade: I forgive you.

So this is the upswing. Finally, things started looking up after I settled my finances. I hate to admit it, as I said to Nikki, but money does make you happy. Well, money helps make being happy easier.

Last week spelled an end to the slump that I have been on for a while now. This makes writing difficult so allow me to detail the events prosaically.

I had just finished doing my Performance Review for the first half of the year and boy, have I been working! The form, which didn’t include my manager’s comments was fourteen pages long!!!

On Thursday, I went shopping for something to wear for an interview I was having on Friday. After several hours of going around the mall, I finally found a store that had shoes my size and not juvenile-looking. I got myself a new pair of dark wash jeans which I have been on the search for forever. Say what you want, but Bench jeans are the only jeans that fit me well. I know getting one from Zara or Topman would appeal better to the finnicky tastes of some people I know, but what the heck, I can wear a shirt that I got from the teens section of a department store and make everyone think it’s designer. (I may be exaggerating here)

I broke in my jeans by heading out to Malate by myself. Yes, it was one of those “date-yourself days” that I have from time to time. For effect, I wore a shirt that said “ALONE” in front, and “AGAIN” at the back. It was a very witty shirt and I got it for the rough equivalent of two US dollars, when I went to Bangkok.

I went to a karaoke place I used to go to with the Hasslas (a group of friends I went to Boracay and Puerto with). Since I come here every time I happen to find myself in Malate, the bartender recognized me and cleared a spot for me at the bar. I ordered a cocktail since it wasn’t a beer day and started deliberating if I should pick a song and sing to a group of over-achieving singers.

There were 14 songs in queue, I figured by my turn, I’d be too drunk to care. I downed my drink, picked three songs and ordered another one.

Meanwhile, a guy with slits for eyes was scoping me from a table close to the bar. He looked like an ex of mine who owed me money. I was almost going to ask for it back when I realized that he was Chinese and not Japanese.

He asked me to join his table (he was out with his sister). And I stayed with them until the bar shut down. He was a little drunk and was starting to get argumentative with the cashier. They helped me hail a cab, and right before I got in, Eize (Chinese guy) asked if I wanted to sleep beside him that night. I got in and shut the door right away.

On Friday, I was on time for the interview. It was for a lower post but with a better package. Plus, I get to work with my two best friends and have time to take for a Master’s degree if I wanted. Since the guy who was interviewing me knew me for a long time, the assessment wasn’t so difficult. His only question was, if I really wanted to get that job because there is hardly any upward movement in that company.

See, I set a goal for myself and my career. I told myself that I will become a Manager by the age of 30. I’m going to be 27 in a month. I’m several steps away from that goal if I stay with this company. At the same time, I could pursue a different goal of becoming a Psychologist if I move to the other one.

I received another offer from one of my old bosses who is looking for a supervisor for the company that she is currently country manager of. It’s very promising and I’d really want to explore that as well.

To continue the theme of exploration, I explored the possibility of flinging myself back into the dating scene again (or at least opening myself to the prospect of meeting other people). So last night, I met a guy from UP.

Jade’s first boyfriend is Joel, who is an estranged friend of mine. They were together five or six years ago. He also had a crush on an ex-boyfriend of mine who I lived with for a week.

Cubao Expo at Dusk

He took me to Cubao Expo which is a haven for beatniks, hipsters, hippies, artsy folk and people from UP. In short, this is MY TOWN. I’ve been here before but never with as much people around. People had to queue up before getting in that night because it was “Meiday” and a lot of indie bands were playing.

I bumped into Claren, who I always bump into in very random places (story to follow). And I almost jumped out of my skin seeing that I actually knew someone who was in that sea of people. Claren looked impeccable as usual and was with a guy who looked exactly like him. I introduced him to Jade.

Jade knew a lot of people in Cubao X. So I went around the motions of the “hi’s and hello’s”, “great-to-meet-you’s” and “oh-you-look-familiar-have-we-met-before’s.” He introduced me to one of the finalists from Project Runway Philippines that I had a MAJOR crush on. I didn’t realize it was him at first. I used the third line on him. To be fair, he didn’t mention PRP, I just realized it after Jade brought it up half an hour later.

Now that I think about it, Jade reminded me so much of Jo, my last boyfriend. He was mature, artistic, secure, and not so good looking. I got his jokes and he got mine. We caught each other’s punchlines. He had the same taste in music, the same penchant for judging pretentious people and most glaringly, the same level of touchiness. We would be stopping at several spots around the Cubao X compound and look like a black and white blob. He was all over me. But not in a salacious way.

We were talking about the rain I think when he stole a kiss and walked off to toss his drink down the drain. For a few seconds, I was stunned, caught off-guard. I didn’t know what to make of it. When he came back, I just carried on with the conversation as if nothing happened.

He took me to Future which is the bar below a boutique called the “I Love You Store.” I told him to get me a cocktail and he ordered what would be dubbed as the drink of the week… My Shirota.

My Shirota is a mixture of Korean Soju, Yakult (a fermented milk drink almost every kid I know is addicted to), and Grenadine.

Equals My Shirota

It tasted of every good memory I had as a child. It was very appropriate for the theme of the night. It was sweet and tangy and pink.

After floating around Cubao for several hours we grabbed a bite and decided to sound trip by the curb. It was 3AM and there were blisters the size of nickels on each of my heels (why did I ever not wear socks?) I was so tired but I wanted to float some more. So I decided I’d check into a hotel with Jade.

I asked if he would sleep with me if we slept together. And he told me that he wasn’t sure. I laughed and told him that I didn’t know the answer to that question either.

We slept naked with our arms around each other and we woke up 11 hours later.

We had breakfast and coffee at 4PM and we took the train home after two hours.

I got home and commenced a thirty minute search for my other phone. As I was calling myself and listening intently for the opening verse of Bic Runga’s “Good Morning, Baby,” I pondered on the reasons why the past week was one of the best I had.

Like My Shirota, it was a cocktail blast from the past–a mix of familiar feelings: the satisfaction of a shopping find, the thrill of getting scoped by a stranger, the pride of being sought after by a job instead of the other way around, the excitement of being in the company of beatniks from UP and the tenderness of falling asleep in someone else’s arms.

Taking A Stand

In case you don’t know yet, a big part of my job has to do with meeting people and conducting administrative hearings. I administer discipline so I constantly have to go on meetings to talk about whether a person should be fired from work or not.

Got Wood?

Very serious, nerdy and stressful stuff.

These meetings usually happen at the end of the employees’ shifts so this is around 6AM onwards my time. This is usually the time I’m most active. And by active I mean real attentive, quick-witted, etc. etc.

Early mornings cause my body to awaken, in a way. The sun, softly letting it’s rays into the office window. The air in the morning is a tolerable combination of dew and smog. And since it is the end of the shift, people are excited and generally in a good mood.

That’s all well and good except for one major problem…

My massive boner.

Before the Perv Alert starts wailing in your brain, let me explain.

If you’re a guy, you probably know what I’m talking about. There is a physiological phenomenon called spontaneous erections. It’s a natural process that occurs mostly during puberty (yes, apparently I’m still pubescent, there is hope) or on certain days, when environmental conditions are ideal (and by environment I really mean the weather and nature.)

Since I wear slacks to work, I tend to arrange my junk a certain way so that it does not disrupt the “line” of my silhouette. If you’re a gay guy, you would know what I’m talking about.

I have an obsession about being streamlined. I hate so much when there are things bulging on my pockets (and elsewhere). I make sure that my underwear has enough tucking power to manage certain “things”.

But on busy 6AMs, it’s like someone stuck a vise down there, and I would be at wits end trying to sit a certain way or walk a certain way in the hopes of creating room for my Junjun to breathe. These maneuvers very often do not work, and I’ve had to scoot my seat under the desk and “handle things manually” to keep certain veins from popping and to ensure that bruising does not occur and consequently cause the ultimate demise of my precious gift.

Even then, in addition to ruining my “line,” it ends up hitting my belt buckle, further aggravating the situation.

There have been a number of times when I was called out to do something and I literally would have to count backwards from 30 or think of exposed brains or washing machines or brick walls to get it to subside.

The tragedy is that I feel certain people are already getting wind of this problem. There’s a guy at work who always schedules meetings with me at 6AM or thereabouts and he’s commented on my pants once or twice. (Normally, this would disturb me, but I kind of have a little crush on him so I let it pass.)

One time I was in a 630AM hearing, and it was for performance, I think. So I was asking the employee why he thought his scores were subpar for that period. He was very inaccessible during the session. It was difficult to get a response from him, he just kept looking down. So I said, “please don’t give me a hard time.” Then he smiled real creepy so I looked at the coach right next to me, crossed my legs and wrapped up the session.

I had to pretend writing something down as they were leaving the room because I couldn’t get up off my seat.

I bet 40 years from now I wish I would have this problem. The thing is, it’s just real bad timing right now. Plus, it hurts!!!

I haven’t gone to the laundry yet so I used up all my support underwear. Today I’m wearing boxerbriefs.

Note to self: Clear schedule from 6AM-7AM.



I rode a swing
I haven’t been
On such a thing
Since I was little
When sadness
Was brittle
That a short gush
Turned sorrow to mush
As the little seat
Shoved a rush
Of wind upon my face
And set me reeling
Back in place.
Back and forth
On a swing
That’s always moving
But never getting

It will do tonight
To cause a stir
And somehow blur
The rapid whir
Of my racing mind.

When thoughts of you
Came back too,
I rode a swing
To forget you.

I lean back
So the stars are shooting
And catch myself wishing
On each one
That when I get off
With one big hop
You won’t be far behind.


I was blog-hopping to increase some traffic into my wordpress blog.

Yes, WordPress has a feature that ticks off my competitive/obsessive nature… BlogStats. It’s a horrendous affirmation of my need for attention. Yuck, I am such a three-year old.

credits to Angel: http://curiousanimals.net/

So I did something that really helped out. I joined a blog community. And I started posting links on my Facebook Wall.

Sad to say, the weekly assignments were suspended (after the week I joined) so my blog has been in the dark for a bit.

So I was hopping. Nyl, who’s a trainer from work has a blog in Blogger. And Nikki’s been telling me that I should check it out. So I did. He’s done so well already. Nyl’s a good writer. He writes nice fictional stories.

As you can see so far, my prosaic skills leave much to be desired. I’m not a very good storyteller. I like to write poetry though because it comes more naturally to me, and because I like rules and going around them.

So I checked out Nyl’s followers and I was clicking on the links to the other guys’ blogs and I sort of got disheartened.

I mean, I enjoyed their blogs. They made me feel queasy and voluptuous (see, that I got from Anne Rice). But they were mostly about hot sex!!!

My mother reads my blog from time to time. And I don’t think she will appreciate prosaic accounts of my “gallivanting” floating around the internet. I have posted some of those before, but they always turned out to be jarring. (I use poetry to talk about sex, so I can always tell her, that it’s just “poetry.”)

And I feel that if I posted articles like that, it wouldn’t have the same effect other people’s accounts would.

I’m terribly insecure about myself.

I feel that when people read my sex stories it would be like they’re watching an accident happen, or a fire in progress. It’s interesting, but so… pitiful/sad/painful.

You know when a guy gets run over by a truck in the highway and cars slow down because they’re oddly attracted to the gore? That’s how they’d probably feel.

Of late, I have had not a lot of sex adventures. (Somewhere in California, my mother is thanking the Lord)

See, I’m not necessarily a looker.

I mean, people only get attracted to me after I get their attention. I’m not the kind of person that steps into the room and has a “presence”. I feel a little sad about that. But I feel stupid for not doing anything about it. And of course, the moment I open my mouth, all thoughts of sex vanish from everyone else’s mind (Oh my God, a successful IRONY).

Sometimes, I wish my life were more relatable. I wish I was more… into the gay scene. I wish I never lost touch with the people I used to hang out with in Malate. Oh, I would have flourished in the drama of it all.

But then I realize, there is a reason I left all that. There is a reason I built a wall around me to anesthesize myself, to create my own experiences, no matter how unsuccessful they were.

I couldn’t stand being a brick.

I couldn’t stand only writing about sexcapades, and drunken nights, and popularity contests. They’re all very entertaining, I agree. But I was constantly looking for something else.

I’m happy though that in my wandering, I found that there are people out there like me.

The key, I found, to make the world better, is not to stop at the first sight you see and make a judgement about everything.

So I’m still hop(p)ing.

I’m Here Now

Anniversary namin ni Day kahapon.

Okay, technically, hindi naman kami. Pero napagkasunduan namin (meaning, ininsist ko sa kanya) na anniversary talaga namin ang June 27. Yun kasi ang unang beses na nag-usap kami ever. Sabi ko sa kanya na dapat magdate kami ng June 27, pero since Pride Parade nung sabado at dahil 7PM na siya umuwi kinabukasan, at aaminin ko, hindi rin ako umalis ng bahay, hindi kami natuloy.

Medyo naoverwhelm nga ako ng kaunti sa nagdaang weekend. Kasi, dahil sobrang galing kong mag-cyberstalk, nahanap ko yung profile nung unang lalaking naka-date ko ever. Ang aking pers lab. Oo, siya yung sinulat ko dito dati. Na naging dahilan kung bakit ako naging sappy writer for a while. Ang sukatan ng lahat ng lalaking nakadate ko since (pero napalitan na yata yung standard ko mula nang maging kami ni Jo, huwaw… o Bub, gusto mo yun?).

Anyway, sobrang nagpapaka-nonchalant ako about the whole experience. Pero minessage niya ako sa Facebook tapos midconversation, tumawag siya sa telepono, at slight nagpanic ako at nalagay ko sa call waiting tapos hindi ko na alam kung paano ko siya babalikan kasi never naman akong nagcacall waiting ever, kaya dinrop ko yung call tapos tinawagan ko ulit siya. Yes, may ganung clumsy drama na nangyari.

Dun ko napagtanto na may kurot pa rin pala sa puso ang nakaraan.

Tapos medyo nabuwisit ako kasi nung tinitingnan ko yung mga fotos niya sa Facebook eh nakita kong hindi nagdiminish ang ka-cute-an niya. In fact, ang sexy sexy niya na ngayon. At mukhang bakla na talaga siya (as opposed to the conflicted bicurious self he was nung una kaming magdate).

So obviously, nagsound na naman ang mga chimes sa brain ko. Tapos slight nagdream ako na baka kaya niya ako kinocontact ngayon ay dahil gusto niya na kami bigyan ng second try. Na medyo kina-upset ko, kasi I was doing so great not needing to have someone in my life, tapos biglang eto na naman si ultimate “The One” at gusto ko na naman yata ng happily ever after.

Tapos naalala ko na ako pala ang nagstalk sa kanya. So na-cancel out lahat ng daydream.

Si Stephen, Heartbreaker ng HongKong

Bago ako bumalik sa “what if- what if” at “I wonder – I wonder”, e mabilis ko nang pinigilan ang sarili ko. Ngayon ko lang nakikita ang value ng “if it’s meant to be… or not to be, that is the question.”

Nireview ko ang nakaraan at ang history ko sa mga ganitong uri ng interaction. Napansin ko na tuwing may gusto akong makatuluyan ay bigla kong iniiwan ang sarili ko sa ere at hinahayaan kong mahulog ang sarili ko sa isang imaginary kumunoy. As in “dive”–no, more like “plummet”. Kung hopeless romantic kang gaya ko, alam kong alam mo yung feeling na yun: na lumalaki nang sobra yung object of your affection tapos nagkakaroon siya ng sobrang lakas na gravity, at kahit na tumatakbo ka palayo e wala ka ring choice kundi magrevolve at magrevolve sa kanya (may centripetal force).


kailangan natin ng moment para ma-appreciate yung image na yun. Ang witty kasi…

Okay, moment over.

So after almost five years, e ngayon ko lang talaga narealize na alam ko na ang dapat gawin sa mga ganitong sitwasyon. At feeling ko, dahil matanda na ako, alam ko na na minsan kung alam ko kung anong tamang gawin e dapat yun ang gawin ko.

So bago pa siya tuluyang lumaki (ulit) e pinili ko nang bigyan ang sarili ko ng isang matinding dose of reality.

To reinforce the message, nanood ako ng “He’s Just Not That Into You” kanina. At naalala kong crush ko nga pala si Justin Long.

Naisip kong ang pakikipagrealsyon ay hindi isang hunting expedition. Rather, dapat mo siyang gawing fishing trip.

Sure, kailangan mong mag-exert ng effort. Sure, kailangan mo ng bait, kailangan mo ng line, kailangan mo ng hook, ng sinker, at ng fabulous na fishing outfit, pero pagna-cast mo na yung line, keri na yun. Wait, wait ka na dapat ng bite. Walang sense na sisirin mo yung sapa tapos manually mong isukbit yung pain sa bibig nung fish. Dahil ang tawag doon ay hindi fishing kundi overkill.

Sobrang guilty ako sa ganyan.

Which brings me to the next kuwento…

Saturday night ang birthday party ni Jeremy sa Cubao. 8:30 ang party pero siyempre, 10PM na ako dumating kasi ayaw ko naman maging atat. Dumating ako sa isang party ng mga fresh grad na never ko pang nameet. Mabuti na lang at nandun na si Micay at si Toni, na parehong, naeewan din sa mga kaganapan. Contrary to my past experiences in reference to Jeremy’s house parties, medjo droll at honestly, slightly irritating ang party na ito.

Pagpasok ko pa lang ay binati ko na si Jeremy. “Happy birthday!” quieme, na may absence ng usual touchiness. E mesyo busy na siya kaka-ayos ng mga sheeznit so pumunta na lang ako malapit kay Micay para maka-catch up kami ng konti. So pagdating ko, umuulan na ng compliments from Micay. “Bakit ang guwapo mo ngayon?”, “Ang cute,cute naman ng outfit mo.” “Uy, grabe namiss kita.”

Sinegundahan pa yun ni Toni (ang bestfriend ni Jeremy) na super nagpapaka-social butterfly. So parang, ooo–kaaayyy (something’s fishy), sabi nila kain na daw ako. Sabi ko naman, wait lang, iinom lang ako konti muna.

I was asking them about the pink drink they served me, sabi ni Micay, si Migs daw gumawa nun. I was like, “sinong Migs?” tapos speechless na si Micay.

In reality, may idea na ako kung sino si Migs, kasi si Day, na hari ng mga cyberstalkers, ay inaasar ako dahil magkamukha daw kami nun.

Finally, sinabi rin ni Toni na si Migs na ang boyfriend ni Jeremy. Nagpause ako for a change… sabay sabi ng “Ah, ganun…” tapos kumain na ako.

The whole night, ni minsan, di ko naka-interact si Migs. Dahil kahit may opportunity, di ko naman alam ang sasabihin ko. I mean, di naman protocol na mag-catch up kami diba? After all, hindi nga ako inintroduce ni Jeremy sa kanya.

I decided to leave early kasi dead na yung party at frankly, hindi na ako interesado magstay dahil nagbibuild na yung awkwardness, especially after Jeremy told our group na ine-alienate daw namin yung mga friends ni Migs. Ayoko ng drama. Sayang ang outfit ko. At nasesense kong mababadtrip lang ako. So I left.

I said goodbye to Jeremy and gave him an awkward hug (he was getting something from the cooler kasi). I don’t know what to make of it. Pero for a change, I just want to keep it that way. There’s no point over-analyzing. I’ve been doing that forever and it’s got me nowhere.

Kagabi, nagpost ako sa Facebook ng status message:

“There are two things that the past can do with equal intensity: show you how much you’ve changed, and show you how exactly the same you are.”

Original yang quote na yan. Hahahaha…

At kaya ko naisip yun kasi totoo naman talaga siya. Pero ang mas mahalagang lesson diyan ay habang nagkakaroon ka ng maraming past (meaning, kung nagmamature ka), ay dapat nadidistinguish mo na rin kung ano ba sa mga changes ang dapat mong i-retain at kung ano bang sameness ang gusto mong i-leave behind.

I have always asked myself, why it was difficult for others to see how great I am. I mean, a lot of people can see it plainly. You guys do, right? (Huwaw, major Fishing!!!) but never the ones I wanted to show myself to.

Then I realized, it was never about them really. It was about me. Sometimes, pinapackage natin yung sarili natin para magustuhan tayo ng iba. Hindi natin napapansin na in the times when we’re not looking, other people see us and they like the view… a lot.

June 27 ang anniversary namin ni Day. And he happens to be one of the people who see me when I’m not looking. And like me… a lot.

I figured, whatever the past does, there’s always something that ties it to the present. It’s the fact that I was there, and I’m here now. And the distance between the two is completely under my control. It’s taken several years for me to come to this point when I can look at the past and see it for what it is: a series of memories.

There’s no sense living my life holding on to the things that I wanted to have in the past. There’s no sense dwelling on the “what if’s” and “I wonder’s.” Those things were never real, and there’s no guarantee that they will ever be real.

I’m here now.

Death to Patience


He is sprawled helpless, whelmed beyond measure
Here on the field of fetid cotton sheets.
He ponders: was it love? Convenience?
Whatever the case, it doesn’t matter.
Pain and joy both syncopate his heartbeats.
The difference, he reckoned was patience.

And there was an endless supply. Patience
That days and distance can’t seem to measure.
But he can’t help from counting the heartbeats
That always hasten when rain drops in sheets.
Pretense and a hand offers convenience,
Stalls him for a while in viscuous matter.

Habit later becomes inconvenience,
Question marks hover testing his patience
Every gap in time begins to matter,
The treasure of pleasure failed to measure
Up to the emptiness between his sheets.
A drone instead of musical heartbeats.

What good is a heart when one’s own heart beats
For nothing? Certainly no convenience
Can expunge forever the empty sheets
Of his love story. Understand, patience
Has betrayed him of wealth without measure.
Abandoning the heart for gray matter.

He asks himself, “what the hell’s the matter?”
The mind cannot pulse as the quick heart beats.
Feelings make thoughts difficult to measure–
They refuse to settle for convenience.
The heart will destroy the walls of patience
What it seeks lies beyond these cotton sheets.

He takes a torch under the wretched sheets
The healing flames make nothing else matter
Flames of the arson put death to patience,
Music, at last, is heard in his heartbeats
The cotton mistakes and inconvenience
Have found their end in overdue measure.

He has left patience in the ashen sheets,
Figured that measure should not so matter.
Summoning heartbeats defies convenience.