Untitled (NaPoMo 9)

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calligraphic metaphors
embellish the canvas
of my memoir,
as I scratch graphite
upon papers of dust and coffee.

charcoal stains
flutter into wind
like dandelion verses;
beautifying
the otherwise
soulless sky.

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Valorous (NaPoMo 8)

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scars vested deep in
the clefts of my nightmares-
burn relentlessly;

too dim,

to illuminate
the dungeon
I am chained to.

yet,
the shadows
flicker
boldly in shades of blood-
pumped from within
my ribcage of promises.

I am
left not to rot,
with the drips
magnanimously-
lifting me from
self-perversion.

Blemished (NaPoMo 5)

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~~

my limbs fold in
itself,
merging together
to form a self-carved
stone;
atop pebbles
thrown at me,
as I tried to crawl
through abyss of
echoing conflicts.

time swayed
relentlessly
forming monochrome
in a heartbeat;
yet,
I remained as a stigma
amidst stipples.

~~

When my fears died inside my screams.

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the winged imagery
on my fragile eyes
that have seen worst storm
than my recent smoky synopsis,
died at the right curve
where my crinkles
could never reach
to romance.

yet, I tried to powder
too many lines
worth mentioning on my forehead
to make it look weak,
with fewer metaphors-
to grandeur the already dead soliloquy;

but the color on my lips
take the audience away,
the bright show stopper
arch into a killer smile
that have mastered the
skill of creating an enigma
enclosed in marble stilettos

I have walked in angles
that doesn’t bend to solve
an equation
and now that I have resumed
walking after the crash
in metered sonnets,
I have ever since raised the number
of rhinestones
on my jacket;
each a tattoo of violent hurricane
I tamed.

Woman

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intuition
catastrophic reverberation
falling syllables
moving highways

her words are lost
and
found in hurricanes,

her silence deepens
the moment
her heart withdraws

you may not realize
how hard she tries
to remain in the shadows
and not let her scars shine

you may not understand
how hard her lips quiver
how fast her fingers move
to take down the traitorous tears

grace
lipsticks stains
more
mac contour

love
left out loud
hate
halted in the right signs

you have to look
the right way
to see her inner shine

you have to capture
the right angle
to see her perfect smile

she is a woman
a warrior
a girl

she is a lady
a sweetheart
a girl

she is woman
a weak bud
strong stem

she is me
and her
and us
it’s I
if you don’t mind…

Look me in the eye…

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I have forgotten
the hang of writing poetry
as I master my craft
in silencing vowels from breaking out
and taming restless hurricanes in my eyes.

the crumbs dripping from my fingers
form a trail behind my
lethargic pen,
crafting shapes on stained papers,
and the leftover residue
mocks my game
as I crawl behind ellipses.

black petals sprouts
between the cracks in similes,
but I stop at no cost
plastering fake metaphors
at every distinguished rest stops
to mask miseries.

and if yet you are unable to decipher
the depth in the folds of my stare
that ricochet on empty barrels;
you simply speak words
that holds no feelings,
since my words have stopped forming sentences
to ears that hold a smile
behind compassion.

Depression and me

 

 

 

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Only emptiness. The kind where even shadows hide behind the darkness. I can feel it in my bones as I watch the world goes by. My friends and families, they are fluid. Happy. Talking. Moving. They don’t stop neither are they stopping. They move. I can feel it as I watch the silver gates open and close, for traffic and they transcend.

But I, I stop. I survive each second. I breathe, I inhale and scream. But only a moment has passed by. I sit by, arms folded, tears leaking and watch the world. Ten years have gone by and they have made a family, existence, life. While I am still nowhere in the vortex. I don’t even know where they exit are.

Somewhere in the echo, I hear a voice. The silver catastrophe soothing me in between darkness that I am where I am to be, I can win only when the time comes and I will win like no other but it’s been years since I have heard the same monologue. I can’t even answer back.

I scream into nothingness. But my throat goes sore and heart inflates, aching. I rub myself to stop crying but my legs bounce on its own, unable to hold it in. I am fat and disguised but I can’t stop eating and the reason why is; don’t you dare judge me.

You don’t know depression and illness. You don’t get depressed when you break up with someone and you can move and talk around. You don’t get depression if something bad happened and you can process like ever before. You don’t get to know what depression is if you are capable of pulling yourself out from the bed and drink water. You don’t get to feel and know its depth unless you have felt the deep pain in between your collarbones and ribcage.

The feeling of emptiness and darkness combined suffocates and no amount of crying yourself to sleep will help you gather your atoms and walk on. You will end up with a migraine. I ended up in a migraine and the doctors couldn’t find the reason why I am complaining of it every single time I visit him for he knows of the medical term why and when a migraine occurs but my hormonal imbalance and emotional barriers are so shaken up that I couldn’t control myself. I…

Hope seems so far away. Faith keeps me sane. Mother makes me want to stay strong. God makes me want to challenge myself to win. But, I am a single soul with a burdened body. I am not strong enough or powerful enough to swim through another hurricane to challenge myself to see where this is going. I am done being strong. I can’t anymore…

I… have been in this movie for quite some time that the official timing has passed by but my script is nowhere near an end. Nor, does anyone knows how this is going to be concluded. But, I believe sometime in the future it will and I can’t wait anymore.

I wish if I could drag time by a thread and make it come to me earlier than expected, but I know my wishful thinking can’t make me, won’t help me and… I am stuck… I feel like screaming but the physical pain has shackled me up in between overused metaphors and unsaid words. I want to but I can’t. I…