POCKET DIARY 2012

What does your URL mean?

Do you know the band, Mayday Parade? If yes, I bet you know their song, “You Be The Anchor That Keeps My Feet On The Ground, I’ll Be The Wings That Keep Your Heart In The Clouds“.

My URL is from its lyrics, the part in the chorus that says, Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me? This like, spoke to me, or something.

Anyway, my original URL was supposed to be deafeningsilence but it was already taken so I removed the vowels instead. And I got dfnngslnc. If you know my other accounts, this was always my username.

But, at some point or years ago, I left tumblr. I deactiviated, but eventually I came back. My old URL though is not available anymore. So I added ths, which is “this” without the vowel i, and that’s how I got my URL now: thsdfnngslnc.

found, and never lost again

a.k.a. with papers on the floor and ink bleeding on nothing, i say, “maybe words are not enough to describe you”

you are afternoon walks under the sun’s rage and we burn whenever, but it feels good like cold water caressing our skin, and we know we’re alright you are running on a sidewalk with laughter beating the sound of cars as background music, and the smell of meat pies that i love to eat you are the feeling of falling asleep after a tired day, and you are stolen kiss in the dark and heavenly giggles after our lips part you are lullabies at dawn and ballads on rainy days, and when i want to dance, i dance to your name, i dance to your heartbeat you are my wild love (the “i won’t” to my “why don’t you leave me”, and the “libre kita” to my “gutom ako”) and one day you’ll be the horrible smell of morning breath, you’ll be the glorious taste of morning coffee, you’ll be the unnecessary fights after eight o’clock, and the bouquet of exquisite roses waiting on the kitchen table at 15 past five, (the “take care” after “i’m off to work”, the “good night” after “i love you so much”, and the “midnight snack lang” after “saan ka pupunta?”) and you’ll still be my wild love, i’ll still be loving you, and writing about you, and you’ll still be my wild love (my “pangit ka”, my “damulag”, my “babuy”, my “love”)

(eusie.)

get on the midnight train

i./ the ground feels familiar like the ivory colored tiles that greet me first whenever i get home/ like the cold cold cold ivory colored tiles at home that give out the warmest welcome ever because the ones i live with never bother to/ the ground feels gravely familiar like home/ am i home?/ the lights are dead and that’s probably why i smell a faint scent of roses/ the lights are dead but where are their corpses?/ the lights are dead/ am i home?/ the lights are dead; oddly, darkness is all i see/ am i really home?/ the ground feels gravely familiar and oddly, darkness is all i see/ where is the beginning or end of all these things left unsee?/ i reach out to find nothing/ i reach out but end up touching the skin of no one/ i reach out with a heavy breath and shaking hands/ where is everyone?/ am i home?/ i dare to run and nothing hits me, just the faint scent of roses getting stronger and stronger/ i realize the scent is actually of dead roses/ this is not home/ the ground feels gravely familiar and oddly, darkness is all i see/ i reach out with a heavy breath and shaking hands/ the faint scent of dead roses getting stronger and stronger/ this is not home

ii./ where is the beginning or end of all these things left unsee?/ this isn’t light blinding me/ this is darkness harassing my insides, making me me feel like this is something i want/ but this is not/ where is the beginning or end of all these things left unsee?/ why am i the only one here?/ this darkness with its friends, the scent of dead roses and the ground that seems to know my sadness/ this darkness with its friends, the corpses of all things left unsee/ where is the beginning or end of all these things left unsee?/ this is not home/ this is a prison where i am in because of something unknown/ but a murmur says otherwise/ why am i here?/ “because you didn’t go back”/ this is a prison where the beginning or end of all these things left unsee cannot be found/ where everything is gravely familiar but i still can’t put the pieces together/ why am i here?/ “because you didn’t go back”/ this is not home/ this is a prison where the beginning or end of all these things left unsee cannot be found/ and it’s all because i didn’t go back

(eusie.)

But there’s a Love that’s Worth the Wait

I've been always keeping in mind that there's more to life than falling in love, and that I should just wait. But the more I believe myself that I'm really waiting, the more I'm looking out everywhere, searching for love.

(eusie.)

i still think we're soulmates. but maybe that's just the hopeless romantic in me

an interview with my neighbor

part 1: mr jameson coles

frozen cookies are his favorite snacks; he said he likes his heart cold. he even likes to fill the path to his house with burned out roses. “because no one likes a love dwindled to nothing,” he replied when i asked why. sad love, sad love, sad love, i heard his eyes whisper. my heart ached. he always met sunrises with cold coffee which he made every night before. and he didn’t care if his shower won’t work anymore. “where do you take baths then?” he answered that his soul keeps wandering around anywhere but here. he likes the smell of nails. and he said he knows what everyone thought of him. the paintings in his living room always sing to him in a melody that resembled a voice in his past. he didn’t tell me a name. but he said his past liked every time it snows. “do you like it when it snows?” he then asked me. then there was a story behind his eyes that echoed out memories. sad love, sad love, sad love, i heard myself whisper. he secludes himself; he said it’s because he’s waiting. for a future he planned long ago with someone who’s not here anymore. the room surrounded us with an atmosphere that felt like i was traveling backwards. a howling wind screamed pain throughout as he looked outside the windows. then slowly, but tearfully, he murmured, “a sad love, isn’t it?”

(eusie.)

How to spell?

She starts to talk about Mississippi, and across these ill-painted walls, I hear a whisper. You’re a fool for her.

I remember when my mother used to say, “Don’t use all of your heart,” and “Leave a little bit of love for yourself.” I always rolled my eyes, because I didn’t know back then. And now, if my mother would yell at me for being this close to giving myself up just so she can say she loves me back, I wouldn’t care.

Fighting the urge to caress her cheek, I fond over her smile. She continues to go on about attending her favorite band’s concerts. Her eyes burning like she’s on fire. She says she’s excited to wear her tight black dress if she ever has a chance to go. I notice how her face’s suddenly painted in crimson as she longingly looks to a distance. Then she says, “I want to be kissed by someone as we listen to my favorite song being sang live.”

I could feel my soul closing in on her and kiss her lips, as if I’m the one that she wanted to be with her. But I know she doesn’t. So I pull myself back, and try not to feel hurt.

I return into trance when she mentions my name. That’s when all of my insides dry. But fuck. Her voice is like my blood, and the way the letters of my name slip from her tongue, I would think that she was the one who weaved my being. I ask her what else does she want to talk about.

And if I lose myself once again with just by her presence, I wouldn’t want her to know. I’ll just let her continue to tell the things she dreams about, even if I’m not one of them.

I’m a fool for her. Yes, I am.

(eusie.)

tell me if it doesn't suffocate you when you see his lips dance with someone else's

i’m telling you, i know the feeling (eusie.)

but... i can't write anymore

This will be one hell of a fucking ride

a.k.a. This was supposed to be hidden / under my bed / along with stories / I refuse to read before I sleep

Standing in front of a mirror / I see myself eyeing every inch of me / the black lace covering / almost nothing / and the music on my back / is glorious

Then there’s a knock / below my feet / as the wind settles behind the curtains of my bedroom window

It takes a second then a minute / blood flowing in a rush / heartbeat flooding my eardrums / as I parade down the stairs

He stands there like a kitten / his shadow touching the back of the door

He’s breathing fire as he enters inside / then our breaths waltz / in the same air-y music / then we feel the same desperate burn on our veins / the same shyness flush on our cheeks

A beat / a whisper / then pants begin travelling in the hope of more / of more bare skin / of more blazing touches / of more sight of swollen lips

I lead him to my room / catching his fingers once inside / placing them on my shoulder blades / I lead him / to have himself kiss me wet

(eusie.)