Some Days.

I still want him. The workings of his mind. The children of his hands.

But I cannot keep wanting that which only breaks me.

Beyond this brokeness must lie that which will reshape me into that whole person I used to be.

Though My Eyes Struggle.

My hands know the futility of trying to get acquainted with the darkness when I am in a place bereft of light.

So I make friends with the things it hides...

She Said.

Life won't hand you anything that you are incapable of handling.

I Said.

I am not happy anymore. Or is it, I am not happy Now? There is an emptiness. A hollow ache that I cannot even begin to describe. My heartstrings are frayed and my heart seems to be filling this wide expanse.

And this expanse is cold. Should I test myself? Should I try my hand at being ruthless and see how I fare?... For a moment there my heart felt brave. A bravery it has never felt before. It is a stranger. And like most strangers, it intrigues me. Tempting me for a better acquaintance of it...

Was I A Mystery Hunter?

You wore crimson cloaks on the Eve of Profession.

Still, I dubbed thee...

... And the sharp edges dubbed me.

Impasse.

My life has been composed of severed ties. From People. From Things. From Places. From Memories. From Myself.

He said know thy enemy. Sigh, I may need to know my friend, too. This enemy and friend within has lead me to this stalemate.

Still... I hope for a resolution.

Hand Me My Batleth!

I want to go Klingon on that man who gave my Star Trek Voyager CD a big gash!

:(

Where The Wind Is Confined.

The salty waters trickle down.

The heat goes up.

And only grace stays...

This Thing That Goes All Ways.

I forgive you.

I forgive her.

I forgive myself.

... How can I keep walking that stretch with this bag that simply gets heavier and heavier? I want no sore heart. I want no sore arms.

And that horizon looks promising... it needs me there right away.

Sabi Ni Ning.

Hindi nga niya alam yung lakas na nasa likod ng mga tawa ko.

To The Man Who Passed Through My Harp.

Beloved, you do not know this, but today I planted a seed. But oh, how deeply it is buried beneath the earth that light and dampness cannot even reach it. But it will thrive... it will. But the witnesses will not be the fair sunshine nor the sweet music of the birds. Only that wind that I told you about, blowing through that seemingly-accidental portal. Only that howling, ever moving friend and those still walls that echo its passing shall be the sole witnesses to this fragile, tender life. This vow...

Quintessence.

It did come into being, love... but I now wish to reject its supposed existence. We must stop bending over those implements because they simply brought us to this point in the road where you now only see my fading shadow. You cannot profess anything to my fading shape anymore...

...Those faint waverings are my already-taken steps and my already-wracked-with weeping body.

It Is When Blood Profuses The Mind, Really.

"The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer—because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement, not the possession of a brainless slut. ... He does not seek to gain his value, he seeks to express it. There is no conflict between the standards of his mind and the desires of his body."

What now, love? Did the fire burn too deeply... too quickly?

Sigh... I now see the ashes falling from the altar.

He Who Resides In Silence.

He is long and winding. Completely accepts every fall from my feet. Stares back without wavering. Paves himself with the memories I have made with him. Then greets me back when my legs find themselves making love yet again with the worn lines that mark his length.

Face Painting.

My words are being marked by creases.

They are begging for smiles.

I think I shall give them red, upturned lips- con bright eyes.