sometimes,
i hate the world
for still going on,
like it has
completely forgotten
about what happened to us.


Like it has
completely forgotten  
about people like us.

and you're many hundreds of miles away,
and it's 2 am,
no more work, it's dark, and she couldn't avoid the talk,
you called from the payphone nearby hotel,
the clock ticking loudly as a complement to sad silences,
and she's the missing link from your life,
and you're making it clear that she was,
but you just wanted to know
what you have missed,
and once you learned it, you both knew it was over,
and we learned to say goodbye,
and she's, however still missing
and you wouldn't be waiting on the other side

but no darling,
motels get me down and i don't want to shed tears
behind the walls on clean sheets slept on by many,
you don't want to hear my heart creaking,
and you certainly don't want to understand it

In Ashleigh's book, I now write
& provide her with this true insight:
We have yet to be friends- how we're connected despite,
all of the habits we-

Choose; Still,

to diminish the light.

please don't
doubt how
much love
for you
resides in
this heart
of mine,

and,

please take
good care
of the heart
that lies
in the palms
of your hands.

I've found some cherish notes
Half of them flowery
The other equivocal
While I read'em
still getting hope
To know
That they're all an anchor
For whom I wrote!

paano ko nga ba kinolekta
ang mga ala-ala?
sa piraso ng bato?
sa piraso ng kahoy o halaman?
siguro sa simoy ng hangin
at lasa ng pagkain?
hindi naman kaya
sa kalampag ng mga musika?
wala nga sigurong batayan
wala ring katapusan ang pagkolekta
ng mga ala-ala
nakagawian ko na itong gawin
noon pa
kaya kahit na ubos na
ang mga bato kahoy at halaman
kahit na said na ang bakas
sa simoy ng hangin
at lahat ng pagkain
manahimik man ang indayog ng musika
hangga't hindi pa nauubos
ang mga naipong lakas
na magdadala ng mga lipas na gunita
ng galit at takot
ng lungkot at tuwa
makababalik pa rin ako
saan man magpunta

Im standing on the edge.

A fifty-foot drop has never looked so appetizing.

 I want to step forward and take a bite.

I see the asphalt below as candy, and i my sweet tooth is aching.

 Im being held back by what little support i have left.

They tell me taking that first step has no return, that it will ruin my figure, that there is no plastic surgeon that can fix the mistakes i would make.

The cravings are pulling me in, i need a taste of the sweet release.

I cant get it off my mind.

I was speeding on the drive to the top of the cliff.

Every tree looked like a silencer to the voices in my head.

The street signs are my goodbye notes.

and the ground fifty feet below, is the beginning of the end.

Thank you, im sorry. Sincerely the forgotten.