it’s a guessing game of how many

band-aids we’ve plastered and pulled

off this giant gaping gash that was once

a small puncture

a scratch in the surface

a tiny cut

that we expected to disappear

ripping off the band-aid

wasn’t the best idea, perhaps

when the wound started to bleed again

after taking a breath of fresh air;

maybe it didn’t heal for long enough

or my skin was just sensitively thin

or something’s wrong with my blood—

we tried peeling it off gently,

but it bled anyway we tried

“it’ll work” were the words i heard

the second time you put a band-aid on

“eventually” was added on the third time

“hopefully” after the fourth one

“trust me” after countless tries

with a matching “shh” when i mentioned

of having it checked by a doctor

but the blood never stopped flowing

the skin went pale and purple

and the wound outgrew the band-aids

soon enough the odor of putrescent flesh

began to fill every corner of the room

the feeling of flies landing on my skin

and maggots crawling inside

along with your empty reassurances

was the point that i finally told myself

i’ve had enough

so i rip off the band-aid one last time

and grabbed a pair of tweezers

to stab through the open wound

and look for you—

you who burrowed deep inside

and started eating me alive

you squirmed through the decaying matter

relishing on the life that was left in me

i pull you out to end it once and for all

even when i felt like you were a part of me

and i see you in your true form

a monstrosity i never imagined

to live within my body

it’s a guessing game of how many

days or weeks or months it takes

for the stitched-up wound to fully heal

it won’t take years, hopefully

soon enough, eventually

it’ll work, surely

without you anymore in me

langit, lupa

Inay, Itay, lalabas muna po ako,

Makikipagkita sa aking mga kalaro.

Opo, mag-iingat po ako,

Hindi ako gaanong lalayo.

Bakit may mga sundalo rito?

Bakit niya tayo pinapauwi?

Teka saglit! Huwag po!

Maawa po kayo!

Inay! Itay!

Ang kaibigan ko po, pinatay!

Inay, nasaan si Itay?

Inay!

impyerno

Malakas

na katok at pagsira sa pinto;

na sigaw ng aming mag-ina;

na kapit sa aming

binti,

bisig,

mata, at

bibig.

Itay, nasaan na po kayo?

Tulungan n'yo po kami rito

Bumalik na po kayo rito

Ang gusto ko lang po'y maglaro.

Inay, Itay,

Sabi ko pa naman magiging sundalo ako, tiwala.

Ngunit ganito ba ang ginagawa ng isang sundalo?

Ako'y

binaboy,

sinaktan,

kinuryente, at

pinaglaruan,

isang batang tunay na hindi pinagpala.

saksak puso, tulo ang dugo

Ang buhay ay isang munting laro

May namamatay, may nabubuhay

Ngunit sana, sa mga manikang pinaglaruan

Ay kaya nating ibalik ang kanilang dating kinabukasan.

#NoToMartialLaw #MarcosNotAHero

for being sweet

two souls lost as the leaves and branches sway,

trying to look for

something amidst--

a place to stay

fallen twigs crack

cookies crumble

pretzels, candy canes, gingerbread men, and cinnamon buns

heaven! for the two

so they savored, as if

they only ate stale bread for food

a silhouette came out

for giving you warmth

she pulled them, on and on

dragged them into her house

the looks on her face was different from theirs

she had a plan.

this looked like nothing sweet

rusty hinges; you can hear the metal door creak

and down they fall

they've reached the bottom, thinking,

climb.

but did you give me any warmth?

drops of sweat don't seem to drop

they just vanish

and we might, too

grasping, longing for something,

freedom.

the door opened? suddenly

a hand came to help and it pulled me out

but that hand also locked the door

leaving my sister inside, as flames devour her

it's all about knowing whose hand to hold

her plan was not about roasting the both of us

but it was, at least, making both of us suffer

the boy

run

out of the wretched

just run

follow the trail of the dead birds

for the breadcrumbs i left were eaten

"where's gretel?"

i'm sorry.

apologies, pseudolistened

i lost a sister, yes i know,

i did my best to save her

i am no son of yours, yes

gretel was your favorite child, after all

well, she was your only child

good bye, mother. it would be better if i left.

it won't matter if the day you'll say sorry for being angry at me comes

i didn't leave any breadcrumbs this time.

i see a light!

no, don't follow it!

what is the point

of not following the light?

why would i run away?

if i looked away

there's nothing

that i

could see

the tunnel swallows me.

the light starts to flicker.

it was gone

before i could even reach it

i guess i really belong in the dark

where no one would bother me.

it's nice to be here, because in the dark, no one

could see those tears.

7 years old, 7 AM

i woke up and i open the door

and the living room was full of red, green, and glamor

the christmas tree with the shining star like a cherry on top and gifts underneath

the toy train moving around on its tracks near my feet

and the fireplace burning with the socks above its jaw

i ran to the tree and looked for my gift, ripped it open and saw

a toy helicopter with a remote control

and my parents smiled with a whole

as i made it fly

and time passed by.

16 years old, 11 AM

i woke up and i open the door

mom's cooking lunch and a mess was the floor

the tree's star flickers like a light's stupor

and the train moves no more

underneath a tree is a paper bag from a store

no wonder they don't wrap my gifts anymore

i peeked inside and it's a sweater--

psh

you know what

this sucks

i don't care anymore

so i threw it to my bed

and years fled

30 years old, 9 AM

i woke up and open the door

it's not the same old place as before

mom and dad are in a different house -- actually, THE old house

your apartment stinks like hell but who cares anyway

christmas tree doesn't have anything on it nor underneath

and the toy train doesn't work anymore (shit)

you open your mailbox

"Merry Christmas!" "Happy Holidays!" "Enjoy your holidays!"

psh

eh

who cares

back to sleep

57 years old, the night before

here's to another crappy christmas

there's no more tree

nor people even there

mom and dad are gone

and i'm all alone

all i have is the ceiling fan

and the black and white TV

well shucks

didn't expect this

to end

so

soon

all these poets

writing about love

but never truly knew

what love really is.

all these poets

writing about life

but never even bothered

what death can be.

all these poets

writing about their world

but not about

the world of others.

that every word they write

every drop of ink

every sheet of paper

every stroke of their pen

can all just be called

a waste.

all these poets

listen down here

where darkness reigns

there is no light

to read

your

words

[shitty poetry]

denial

we're happy, right?

we used to talk for 10 hours straight for a day

well, used to.

but i know you're still there for me

you're just busy, i think

we have each other

but we have our own

so i guess

i'll just

let it be

anger

what's wrong?

nothing's wrong, right

can you even read my messages

do you even bother to read them

hey

you there

bargaining

please

i just want to talk to you again

where did i go wrong?

just reply

fuck

just tell me what i did wrong

i don't want this to end

please

don't shut me out

i care for you

i love you

just please

don't

just reply

tell me

say anything

please

depression

fuck

i miss you

and it's all my fault

i don't know why

or how

but i did something wrong

and i deserve this

i guess i have to run

away

from you

is this really goodbye?

i guess so

i should stop talking

i'll just leave

fuck

i love you

acceptance

.

.

.

well?

it's better off this way

a dreaded silence in the air

reverberating, booming

deafening my eardrums

my audible pulse, arrhythmic

resonating, palpitating

struggling to create a melody

it comes to a halt

a sudden bang!

terrorizing, traumatizing

tainting the walls with a crimson hue

the same pulse, slower

fading, decelerating

creating the saddest sound the walls will hear

the last heartbeat.