I do.

I want to wear your love on my head like a crown.

I want your embrace to wrap around me like armor.

I want you to take me in with your mouth that speaks of great love.

I want to put a ring on your finger like the halo that is cast around the bright moon tonight.

I want you to bear my name not because I conquered or own you but because it’s the only thing left to do.

I want you to be the end of me.

I want nothing else.

I want you.

Memento Mori

Time for my laundry list again.

I'm fascinated by the fact that we're just wandering carbon-based organisms here in this world. We're all going to die. That's a fact and when that time comes for me I'd be smiling. Although, if there was no end to this lifetime, these are the things that I'd probably want to do on repeat for the next 5,000 years or the next or the next.

1. Kiss her forehead and smell her hair everyday.

2. Tell her how beautiful she is today and eternity.

3. Hold her hand and smell the scent of her soft supple skin.

4. Stare at her until she scrunches her forehead and nose as she wonders if there's dirt on her face.

5. Share hearty meals with her and our little big man, say grace while we all hold hands.

6. Think about how tomorrow will turn out even if I know it's going to be the same beautiful routine again.

7. Write her a new poem and read it to her until it makes her tear up a bit or laugh since I'm not a poet.

8. Lie on bed as we talk about our story and laugh at the funnier times.

9. Sit still as I hug her from behind. Kiss her if she lets me.

10. Write the many things I can't do tomorrow since I have to do the same beautiful things with her and our son again.

I'm far from death although I'm farther away from repeating this for a life time. If only I could live a script that I've written. But that would'nt count. It's a fake reality. I'd choose a sad but real now than a perceived happy tomorrow any time of the day.

Hello, time off.

A writer’s letter to his future wife

I’m a writer. This will be a disclaimer. It will be apology letter rather than a romantic quip to pull at your heart strings but I promise it can shed light to the darker corners of my mind and heart. Cheesy as it may, please forgive me. I’m terrible at words when it comes to you. Good thing is you’re not a figment of my imagination. It’s a pity that some of my colleagues have fallen to that sort of thing. Though Ruby Sparks is probably one of the most romantic and truthfully accurate works there is out there. I can’t make you up with words. You’ve appeared before me and all I have are my words to make you realize that I am flawed but am ready to love you and irritate you with the same words that helped me reel you in.

I am sorry if I am forgetful at times. This will be the base of this whole thing.

 I have a way with words that have helped me make a small career and a couple of jobs that will keep us satisfied. As you always say, we need not much, just enough is good enough for us. What use would too much money serve? I say a lot of cars, a bigger house and a more comfortable life. You smirked. I realize that I had enough to make me happy and content. It is you that made me realize with less words. It is you who made me understand with such simplicity the thing I tried to explain my whole life with paragraph after paragraph. You are the parsimonious side of my letters. It’s a good thing you said that. 

As a writer, I can only earn as much. Though I can write you simple notes to remind you how much of a good person you are to me and how much I forget to thank you in return. I am forgetful though I remember with more words than I can imagine how distinct and vivid is the memory of your face and that look you make when I do things that make you swoon as accidental as they may be.

I am sorry if I can not put into audible sound the feelings I have for you nor show it to you in actions. It is something that I must do as part of this relationship but given the chance, I will peek out of my shell. Extend my wrinkly appendages and demonstrate a futile hug to invite you in. My shell will be cramped and you will need a longer time to get used to it but I really hope you will. You will get mad at me for my annoying habits and quirks. You may even get used to them but one day get so frickin mad that you’d want to smack me in the face. I understand that, I really do. I will not be the easiest person to be around with but I will try to be the best shellmate for you. Please accept the poorly arranged flowers, they’re on sale at the local flower shop.

Forgive me for not being able to come up with the greatest love story ever told when asked to write about our love. I can’t seem to do it. Love stories have endings and they end with a dot. It’s hard for me, at times, to work on things that I am queasy to do. It’s just that we are living that story and I couldn’t, for the life of me, find a good enough ending for you, for us. I want it to be several thousand pages long with ellipses instead of punctuation marks. You are the greater writer in this love story. That smile of yours inspires me to write a whole act in itself but I still wouldn’t want to finish it. I would want to get to the part where I’d see them mutter the simplest words that would fill me every day that we are together. Whether they be “go get the laundry” or “I want soup for dinner.” 

Olive oil. 

Across the table glances and snickers when I get flush because one of our friends had an embarrassing story that involved me having the greatest crush on you. You wrote those pages, so keep them coming. You don’t know it yet but you make novelists look like amateurs. I’m afraid I can’t keep up with the way you put words into my fingertips.

Forgive me if I take too long to propose. As a writer, I also find it difficult to end one chapter in my work just so a better chapter would open. I have many quirks that you will find annoying, this is one of them. I get anxious thinking that I couldn’t find a good enough beginning for the next act as well as the last words to finish this one I’ve been working so long on. Do you remember the time we imagined the family we’d soon have? You have great pov’s and plot ideas. How creative can you get? That’s why I’m writing you this letter. It’s also like a letter of intent. I hate corporate type letters but I’ve enjoyed this one so far. You may enjoy this too, or not. I’ll know when I see crumpled paper lying around. But I hope you would like it. It will feel like getting a book deal, only better. It’ll be something we’d have to fill in, enjoy the creative process and extend the deadline since we are our own publishers. 

No stingy editors, just you and me and our thousands of pages to fill and subchapters to extend and the characters and protagonists and framing devices along the way. I’ll teach you how to use the ellipses. You’ll teach me how to put words into better places. Did I ever say I’m sorry for being a writer, yet?

frigid

"The temptation was over bearing. The proximity was fearful and delectable at the same time. She was inches away but I was too scared to do anything. It was a frozen yet passing moment. It was delightfully memorable.

She was just there but I was far away in a place I've created for myself. I had no ticket home though I felt that I was never away. Never away as long as she was close.

I've had passed to make sure no mistakes were made. No regrets in the next morning. My mouth was a minty hot mess. Maybe it's how I'd want her to remember my lips. Disgusting but somehow... Different, in a good way. I want to steal her sleep but I can't. That's why I'm writing this now to make me realize how much of a chance I let slip by.

It passed through the gaps of my fingers. I couldn't even smell her, even with just inches of gaping and proud space that's separating us. It was a long fall, long enough to reminisce the firsts of many things. I had let my perfect goodbye slip into just a memory of a failed sortie. She was too much for me. That I know, that I'll never forget. Foolish boy. Goddam foolish boy. Pansy-ass sissy.

There is no songbird tonight."

...

Wee King

"Afternoons are always lonelier for one little boy. He missed his parents so much but they had to work to days' end. They were not a wealthy family but they live comfortably. He used to cry when his parents leave the house. He clutches his parents' clothes and cry 'Mama, Papa.' How he loved his parents, he just did not know how much he did at the time. He was a kid. A child, a rightful heir to everything that the universe has to offer. He still did not know that at the time.

Then he grew up smart. Maybe, too smart. He grew mean because of all the new things he learned. He learned quick and thought high of himself. His parents were too late to see what has happened. He loved them, still. And they, him.

The universe conspired to bring him a little boy. A little boy strong enough to have made him cry the hardest and loudest. That little boy reminded him of what he didn't know. That little jailer reminded him how much he didn't know of things and how much he wanted to learn more. The once sobbing, snotty boy was now a captive. He could not resist the charms of the little one. His wee image of what he once was.

He remembered the universe conspiring, well, he thought that one time. He was not the rightful heir to everything that the universe has to offer. Someone snatched it from him before he even knew. But that someone is now the reason he offers the universe to one man, a tiny little man who has forever chained and changed his mean heart. He was happy. He was holding his universe in his own arms."

Lit time! Oyea! Little kid stories... right in the heartszs.

Overdue at recent

Ang pagsusulat ang isa sa mga naging magandang nangyari sa buhay ko. Sa ngayon, ito ang aking ikinabubuhay at minsan ay ikinasasama ng loob. Sabagay, ganoon nga siguro ang isang love/hate relationship- bittersweet.

At bilang pasasalamat sa mga taong nakatulong sa aking pagsusulat, inaalay ko ang aking post na ito sa mga writers.

Hindi ko nalang nunumerohan ang pagkakasunod-sunod sa aking pasasalamat.

Everything's Better

From Twin Shadow's tour cover

"Pucker up, darling. I forgot my good night kiss."

I feel like everything is better on two wheels. 


Conversations are more memorable as we zip by cars. Everything is just a blur yet everything is stamped on the back of my eyes. I just have to close them to remember the dashes of tail lights and the oncoming head lamps.


The sweet smell of gas burning and the whirring of engines make me cringe at the thought of it. Cold night winds blew your hair to the other side, I flick it and tuck it in your left ear. 


That side part of your face is my most favorite. It's what I get to kiss when I sneak up behind you and give you an ambush kiss and a lift.


What now? 40, 50, 60 going on 70. I can't hear you. I don't need to, you hug me close and tight enough its an assurance and constant reminder.


What's weird is that every time I ride alone, your scent lingers and the feel of your weight is still there. It's good the first few months, now, it's just sad.


You're the one zipping by me now, on someone else's two-wheeler.

And I drink and I smoke and I ask you if you're ever around, even though it was me who drove us right in the ground.

Lifted.

NOTE: As the title says, it is. You are welcome for the bashing.
Of what I am and what I want to be, it depends on how you would want or like it to be.


Tomorrow is a promise of moving things. Shit turning to gold and sometimes the other way around. Tomorrow is a sign of change; a transformation that usually leaves people withered, bruised, bitter and cold. And yet, tomorrow is a constant reminder of a hope that all will never cease to wish for. Because in tomorrows there are wishful thinkings and maybe happier endings and memorable beginnings.


Though, nothing trumps the goods of today. In today, people learn to live with what they have. In today, lovers learn to take chances with every step and risk their hearts as they find themselves content with the wines of their hearts. In today, gamblers take pride of their earnings while grifters wait patiently for the next payday. There are many things that happen within 'today.' Today urges people to move for the fear of losing something they cannot get tomorrow. Though there are things that you have to let pass till' the next.