Pirmi nalang!
Kada muhangad ko
naay magpatay
Wala pa ko nahuman sa pagsubo
sa kaniadtong pagpatay
nagpatuyang ang mga bala
sa pagtay-og sa akong panimuot
sa akong mga damgo

Makapiyong ta sa dahay ug kasapot

Pignit sa balaod
Pignit sa namatyan
Pignit sa atong nasod
Pignit sa batan-on

Pignit nga makapiyong sa kaluya

I once leaned my head on your arm, carefree. Your hands rub my thighs, discretely, we can fool the eyes on the rear view mirror. No one seems to be looking. Who would think twice, mistaking us for a girl with her older sister. Or a niece with her aunt. Or as close cousins. We don’t mean to hide how old we are, but people think the safest of us, avoiding the most unthinkable. That perhaps they are not in love, these two women who are ten years apart. Why are so many afraid to admit that such an attraction is possible?

When our faces become too close we can no longer see our own ages. It escapes me for all I feel is the softness of your cheek and how thick your lips are, at close inspection. That your tongue is playful and that your hands seem tireless as they grope hungrily for my flesh. Does it mean anything to you at all that I have entrusted you with my youth? That I have betrayed my own kind, the young, who long to cherish it. When your touch deserted me, did it occur to you at all that you have taken with you the sensation in my skin?

I try very hard to understand why you can never be mine
for it does not seem to matter to you
anymore
that
I know the ways of care
and that I can carry your mind
to the fineries of your soul
endless rumination of what is beautiful
the strangeness of every corridor
of what makes us human
and alive

You have forgotten
how I’ve breached you
and how you were dying to be
found out
by someone who would not
look away
from all your nakedness
both mind and body

The morning dew
glistens at the touch of the sun’s rays
greets the light and scatters
in to a thousand molecules

Shall it dismay a wisdom gained
From this fruitless yet
Beautiful love
If one chose to die again and again?
I have searched your face
For truthfulness
But I was wantonly
Shooed with
The wave of your knife -
A confused threat
Your face begs forgiveness
But your hands, stabbing still

You cannot kill
That which chose to live
A steady flame burns in
Akeldama – you shall never
Step in this cursed plain
For as long as you feel
No compassion
For the traitor

I am Judas and Jesus
I am traitor and betrayed
Bound by a kiss of death
Charged with an apology
I forgive you
But you have yet to understand
That I have done you no wrong
Even when I shook
Your dear life

Do you mourn for Cicero?
Carted away after battle
With the white plum in his chest
You can take that which lives
And leave the corpse
At an unmarked grave

A friend indeed
Doubts not what to say
With a flick in the air
No hesitation whatsoever
Just a grimace
Oh, I’ve been asked a thousand times
If I cared
To buy a new umbrella
But I’d like for you to
Think of me,
In these times -
How dreched I am

You would need more than that
Umbrella

I lie
My eyes giving in
To the subtle seduction
Of restlessness
A laugh consoles me
From the severance
Of a curiousity
You used to show
Raining, still
I cannot get out of this house

You are somewhere out there
Waiting to be found
And rehearsing
You’re refusal
When I hold out my hand
Again

Yes,
I need more than that umbrella
The rain will punish me somehow
While I recount the ways
Why I love it so

At times
A laugh punctuates
a sob concealed
There are things hidden
Also revealed
In a breath
Beasts of irony, are we

Thrust into a debt
Of understanding
We shall take turns
Listening
About how
she has changed us

I implore you
adult and friend
That three years
Of sentimental reasoning
We are both reeling
From audacious lies
Let us now meet
Thru kindness

Most days in Manila, I feel a strong wave of melancholy. There is always something to be sorrowful about. My daily route passes through a high end village, then through the slums and then through the busy highway outside the Sandiggan bayan. The combination is an unnerving diorama of social classism. I begin my day absolutely helpless to this inpenetrable reality.

Crawlers of old Manila are all looking for a fuck. There is always someone random who is lonely and looking for casual. It’s beautiful how two minds can meet thru loneliness. And that some need to strip themselves of all their reservation to survive the night. There can be plenty of people in a city but there are more who will still feel terribly alone. Waking up to nobody who cares is just a daily affair.

I like to walk the streets at night. Alone. Luckily, I’ve never been mugged or raped. Yes, I can be too reckless. It makes me ponder why crime doesn’t stop. Criminals will always be there in society. But victims are always at the wrong place at the wrong time because they have too much faith in the goodness of people. People are heartless. Manila teaches this in a didactic way and yet there are those who choose not to listen. Even me.

I’m inclined to think that a hair cut’s aesthetic shouldn’t change my experience of sexuality.  For the most part.

About the hair:

Sherad said, “Aha, you’re up to something.”

Ry calls it the look of “Hey, I’m this tough NGO person fighting for gay and lesbian rights.”

Francis muses, “You look like you’re thirty.  But in a good way.”  And adds, “you look twice as intimidating.”

Jace says flatly, “You look butch. Pero chox.”

Kaye greets, “Wow!  I want to fuck you in this hair.”

Happy independence day, one and all.

There were some rocks lying on the ground, that got chipped off from some discarded hollow blocks.  I picked up about three of them and threw them at the wall.  The rocks easily shattered when it hit the concrete to bits that scattered in mid-air.  Falling to the ground.  Impossible to piece together again.

I felt like those rocks.

***

I am starting to get embarrassed of the fact that it takes a little bit more time and gab for my friends to cheer me up these days.  I have been smoking incessantly, chasing the pack.  A rush of helplessness.

Was not sure whether it was easier to look away indignant or have a resigned smile.

Last night we had this whole conversation about nothingness and detachment.  How does one go about it?  Is there such a thing which can trivialize the insanity of passion and the things which tie us to the world?

In my mind I want to lie down and shrivel and die.  But I love life and as Sherad puts it, “The beauty of problems”.  I still feel compelled to wake up the next day and go about a routine, so that I may live.

The fight goes on.

But I cannot lie. I am struggling emotionally. It will take a lot of time to heal. Unfortunately, like an inept writer I must remain secretive as to the cause of all this stress. At least for the time being.

I dreamt that I acquired a great deal of money by accompanying my former boss (whose guts I despise) steal from a couple of middle-eastern men who do 5-6 for a living. I suddenly had this vision of myself holding a thick wad of cash.

While we made a couple of stopovers throughout the city, I suddenly had the urge to excite my body. I propped my legs on the dashboard of the car and touched myself. I was going as fast as I could. Having reached climax, I opened my eyes and we were driving away again. My head was dead-weight on the outlines of the door on the passenger seat. The windows were rolled down and I could feel the cold wind on my face, especially along the line of tears on my cheeks that were suddenly there. I had been crying.

Finally, we stopped at a parking lot and we counted and arranged the money we stole to our liking. I was holding a brick of money. And I thought of getting myself hotel accomodations. And then I suddenly turned my head and saw Kaye. Asked her to marry me for convenience and that because of the money I acquired, I could raise a family with her. Asked her to leave everything behind, let our friends see that we could get married and forget everything that had happened. She smiled at me, touched my face gently and mouthed a mute reply. She turned her back and walked away.

The car doors had been open for some time while I had that strange encounter with Kaye. The cash was swirling up in the air. My companion was panicking, saving what he could. I stared up at the tornado of money. And then I sat back down in the car, exhausted, wishing for my bed.

And then I woke up.

***

A quick analysis of this dream in addition to the nature of my writing as of late, tells me that I am emotionally fatigued. In my dream I had been dealing with people who were both challenging to an extent. My former boss, Don, was not exactly the easiest to get along with as he is the kind of man who rationalizes his weakness but is keen on pointing out his complaint about everything else outside of him. I still had a profound respect for him, for his talent and what he had accomplished in life. But to me, he was an example of a man who was disillusioned in life.

Kaye. I don’t know where to begin talking about her. She was many things to me. I recall several times that I asked her to marry me. In the earlier part of our relationship, she was apprehensive of the prospect of marriage. Mid-way she was acquiesing to it. Toward the end of our relationship, she finally said yes. Fickle at first, but I got a yes. Just as few months later after that fateful Yes did we begin to crumble. I had thought about our faults. There were many things that couldn’t be said that I feel are too painful to explain. Could it be that her muted reply in my dream is myself telling me I don’t want to hear a word of it?

Kaye and Don crossed paths, in a way. This was the time that I was so in love with Kaye that I’d usually clock in late for my shift at the station. Don was really pressing hard on me, pressuring me to come to work. (I remember thinking ‘right back at you’). He would check the radio if I was going on air on time. And send me a message, “where are you?” Morning shifts. Getting up before 6 in the morning to greet the city as it wakes up. And I was in a daze after a long commute from Kaye’s house feeling begrudged to leave her side. She’d still be in bed by the time she hears me come on the radio. It was my way of still being with her. I’d play her favorite songs and some ’sleepy’ music to let her fall back asleep. My boss would text me ‘what the hell are you playing at this hour?!’ And I’d laugh about it in the loneliness of the booth; my voice echoed with the profound acoustics of the room’s design. Had a great view from there too, of how the morning lights evolve in a matter of four hours.

About a few months later my contract was not renewed, so I could no longer go on air. That devastated me. I learn much later they had to nix someone because the station was losing money. Fine. But my ‘let go’ letter stated that they would not renew my contract because of my numerous lates and absences. My colleague said that in a normal situation they’d have me suspended for my first boo-boo. Whatever the real reason was, I couldn’t deny my slacking off from the job. My technician, Edgar, died that same year. He was the guy who’d punch me in the morning while I was still cuddling with Kaye, lingering with her. Apparently, I had no escape from the axe after Edgar died. I’d punch in late and Don would complain about it, that shady character, after he’d come in an hour late too. There’s an injustice to life. He had never failed to let me know how disillusioned and tired he was from the so-called radio industry he had worked in for ten years. He told me how gung-ho he used to be. And like a married couple, he said, you begin to feel tied down and unable to grow. Why he would liken a marriage to that is curious. And so this man remains a bachelor to this day.

Don said he wants to chase a dream. Start up his own business. Get the pay off of all the monthly housing he’s been putting some money in for. I don’t know how far along he is in his dream. But I saw him one day in the mall doing a hosting job. I turned my head when the atrium reverberated with the distinct timber of his voice. He was at the back of a stage sitting down, looking bored. Oh well, I wish him well. I hope we all find our happiness.