shameless quickie

pucha! hayop sa galing!

i'm now obsessed with keane's hopes and fears album. their music matches my own melancholy. and the scraps of that mushy longing to belong with someone- that no amount of caffeine and nicotine can't wash down yet- scratch my skin like paper cuts.

(i was half-way through a thought- the thesis statement of a communication plan i'm crafting when the urge to just share that with you propped up- tingled my spine like how stubbles on a man's chin make me want to kiss deeper.)

hours of discontent

doomed we who find solace in dark alleys

the lot of us embracing cold stone steps

while passion burns gaping holes in our chests

lucky those who laugh at simple jokes

amusement comes in cents and dimes

dreams are low-flying bubbles of carbonated, sugar-rich

song and dance routines of errant heiresses

passing the night in pretend talk with shadows

hands digging deep into pockets of tattered memories

bits and pieces of hope that sticks on the edges of rueful admissions-

morsels that keep us alive yet for more trivial pursuits

reason and conscience in a free for all fight

in a bidding war for our souls

as the dust settles on weary legs and heavy lids

the sleight of hand wins the world

here we go

What the hell did you expect to find,
Aphrodite on a barstool by your side?
- Gin Blossoms


lazy days pass by slowly before my hazy eyes. outside, the rain has left the world soft and vulnerable. the automatic crawls on the dark streets a little past 20, slowing down for every pothole. three dj's outtalk each other on the radio. and here we are silent again for the longest time.

underneath the clutter in the backseat is a box, hastily wrapped by a tired salesalady at a gift shop. you throw me a sideways glance and ask for the fourth time tonight if i have really forgotten. i look away, tired of lying to you.

the trees lining the streets glisten from oncoming headlights. and you wonder if they have memories, would they remember you?