Papa

How can a writer become a teacher?

How can a boy know when he meets her?

How can he know what to feature?

Why do I even bother?

How can a wordsmith find his calling?

How does he know when he’s falling?

How can he continue after stalling?

The adversary’s stronger.

How can he love his work so much?

How can he keep his playful touch?

How can he answer questions as such?

I emulate my father.

I dedicate this poem to the coolest man I know, my father. 

Only in Dreams Chapter 3

 “You know how Christians believe that the downfall of man was caused by knowledge?” Orphen asked the intangible woman beside him.

The thing about Emily is that she doesn’t have a single form. Just like women often change clothes, she often changes form. This time, her hair is the hue of a dark red flame; it burned as intensely as her words.

“Are you talking about the story about the fruit and the snake? I’ve seen that dream countless times. Can’t these people come up with new stories?” Orphen has been having these talks with Emily for what seemed like an eternity at the time and he has figured out several things that really rub her the wrong way. Some of the worst offenders were repetition and mundanity.

“Redundant or not, they’re probably right. I mean, now that we know that everything is just a series of chemical reactions, what’s the point of it all? My choices, my memories, even love can easily be manipulated with drugs and hormones.” His furrowed brows were like war trenches for his ideas.

“So you believe that ignorance gives life meaning?” Her bladed words contrasted her current pale, brilliant form. Even though the sun is just another memory to her, freckles gently peppered her otherwise flawless skin.

The trenches in his forehead deepened and shook. A nuclear explosion in his mind was the cause. During the aftershock, Orphen said, “Kind of… With ignorance comes mystery. And with mystery comes hope.”

The flame she called her hair ignited the blue skies in her eyes. It took all of Orphen’s will to not melt under her intense gaze. “Hope that there’s something more? You humans are always too greedy. If there is a God, I pity Him… or Her. Whatever She or He gives you, you will never be content." Emily sighed and the universe cried out in dismay. Her eyes welled up with sympathy, she said, “feeding the infinitely hungry, what a terrible job.”

“Besides, if you open up a clock and find out that gears make it tick, does that make time meaningless? The problem is the fact that people WANT to manipulate the gears of the mind. Knowledge isn’t the downfall of man, nor is it the power that comes with knowledge. Your downfall is greed and arrogance.” Sympathy turned into wrath; her mood as fickle as her form.

To Orphen, she looked like a raging Goddess, ready to smite her disobedient creations. But instead of being afraid, he was enthralled. And that idea, the idea that he already belongs to her, scared him a bit. And then, a moment of lucidity came, he asked, “Come to think of it, I’ve never wondered what you are. Could you actually be God or are you just a series of chemical reactions in my fucked up head?”

The storm cleared, the wildfire calmed, Emily smiled, “Ha! You’re having a laugh aren’t you? Why would I make such whiny, destructive creatures? I am but a record keeper. I don’t create anything. I just store memories that I find interesting.”

“To what end?” Orphen asked.

“That may be the dumbest question you’ve ever asked me. You really are crazy, aren’t you?"

"We are all broken, that’s how the light gets in." - Ernest Hemingway

Only in Dreams Chapter 2

“There’s something that I don’t understand about you humans.” Emily said.

“Something that stumped even the shrewd dream seer? This I have to hear.” Orphen had a shit eating grin plastered on his face, stoking the embers of Emily’s frustration.

“Why do you feel that it’s necessary to put yourselves at risk for happiness that is not even certain? Why would you intentionally wound yourselves for something that has such little chance of success? Contentment seems like the better alternative, no matter how I look at it.”

Her words were like venom to him, burning his skin, but he didn’t know why. “I wouldn’t say that we intentionally wound ourselves. I mean, if you broke my heart, it wouldn’t necessarily be my fault now, would it?” He said while fidgeting with his fingers.

“Does it matter who lets loose the blade of the guillotine if you intentionally stick your head under it?” Emily said, her divine composure once again apparent.

“I can see your point, sort of... I guess we’re just desperate to be heard, to be understood. So desperate for sincerity that we slice our chests open just to show the other person that our heart is beating faster at the sight of them.” Orphen said in trance. It always seemed like a natural thing to do. But at the moment, Orphen realized how ridiculous human relationships are.

“And you’d do this even while knowing that the other person can just let your heart fall into the dirt?” A genuine look of curiosity dawned on her face. Some might argue that a little bit of awe slipped from her crimson lips.

“Yep.” He said without a hint of hesitation.

“Masochists, the lot of you.” Her tone was harsh but her lips betrayed her.

"The greatest lesson in life is to know that even fools are right sometimes"

 -Winston Churchill

Only in Dreams Chapter 1

“I feel like I’m chasing my mind.” Orphen said to the woman next to him. Her name is Emily, or so she said. Everything about Emily was uncertain. The only thing that was certain was that Orphen was under her spell; almost like she was made for him, literally made for him. Her eyes were like the ocean: blue, deep, and easy to get lost in.

“Don’t you mean, losing your mind?” Emily asked. Her voice was relatively low pitched and had a boyish quality to it.

“No, I mean I’m chasing it. It goes without saying that I’m losing it as well but it’s important to note that I AM chasing it. It means that I’m not letting it go but it keeps trying to slip away. I’m not like the others; I’m quite partial to reality, to what we have here.”

Her lips slowly parted, revealing slightly imperfect teeth. Some of them were ever so slightly crooked. Her nose crinkled and the two oceans dimmed. Her smile grew wider, eventually evolving into a cute and out of character, high-pitched laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Orphen asked. He wanted to sound irritated but the girl in front of him was so perfectly imperfect that it was impossible for him to do so.

“How do you know that this is reality? For all you know, you’re eating shit in the middle of the road, mumbling to yourself. It’s not like that situation is far-fetched either. You sleep 12 hours a day. And if we count daydreams and hallucinations then you spend more time in the ephemeral world than you do in the real one. How do you know which is which?”

“Well, reality is constant. It has rules that it follows.” Orphen said unconvincingly.

“Those rules and that feeling of persistence might be part of the dream. You never realize the ridiculousness of dreams until after the illusion has faded. How can you be partial to reality when it is virtually impossible to confirm it?”

“Alright, I give. But I still prefer this, whatever this is.”

“So you don’t prefer reality. You’re just afraid of change.”

“Not change... loss.”

Unclaimed Shadow End?

She stood up, finally breaking their connection. She turned to him and said, “I can’t save you.” The pain and darkness that she kept stored deep in the recesses of the mystery that she called her mind, have seeped into her lips and her eyes. They infected her looks and yet somehow enhanced it. Her eyes were a cruel combination of beauty and pain. “I’m just as lost as you,” she said.


It was time. He cut loose the words that he painstakingly collected through endless nights of rumination. “You know the feeling when just as you arrive at school, it dawns on you that you've forgotten to do your homework? It’s a terrible feeling, like a horde of bats scratching away at the lining of your stomach. Then you realize there are others like you and suddenly everything is alright. You know you’re still in trouble but somehow you don’t really care that much. What I’m trying to say is that… we can be lost together.”

Eyes as Captivating as a Thousand Setting Suns

I know your mind like the back of my head,

Surely this attraction is corporeal,

But your eyes they call to me with words unsaid,

Revealing my past self’s memorial,

I promised never to obsess like this,

Another broken vow discarded,

But you know what, I would still be in bliss,

If to me, your gaze is awarded,

So much for the philosophy of love,

Are we but lost souls at the end of the day?

A slave to a choice made up above,

A prisoner to what your eyes portray.

Night Ramblings 2

My main philosophy in life can be summed up in one word, contrast. There’s no happiness without despair, no life without death, no pleasure without pain, you get the idea. I embrace both the good and the bad because you can’t have one without the other. In fact, the law of conservation of energy can be applied to each of these opposing concepts. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the said law of physics, it basically states that energy cannot be created or destroyed; it can only be changed into another form.


The same thing is true with love. You cannot actually lose love; it merely shifts into other forms, namely: pain, suffering, despair, indifference etc. The greater the love, the greater the pain it becomes. This is why I love what John Green wrote in his book, The Fault in Our Stars. “Pain demands to be felt.” Ignoring that pain is the same as ignoring the love that it used to be. Ignoring it and hoping it goes away does not make it disappear, it only makes it fester. What helps is to feel it, to accept it, maybe even enjoy it a bit, after all, the pain and suffering is merely a testament of how great that love used to be. And only then can it shift into something else. Hope maybe… or friendship, or fuel for another relationship.


I guess this paints me as somewhat masochistic. But I’d like to think that I just love all the aspects of life and all the forms that love can take. Man, I’m using the word love a lot. Freudian slip much? Well, what am I trying to say with this exactly? Nothing really, I was just transforming some of the love that I feel into words on this page. I've just been overflowing lately so I thought I’d put it to good use. God, that was so bad I could taste the corn and cheese. I’ll stop here before all my dignity transforms into shame and self-loathing. Good night.

Drawing by Emeraldus

Poem for My Mom

Remember the time you forced me to read,

Those novels about tragedy and love,

I didn’t know that you planted the seeds,

Of abilities that I’m now proud of,

There was a time that I felt like a bird,

Imprisoned in a cage, my wings fettered,

Now I see why you had to control me,

Youth blinded me from my stupidity,

You showed us strength, hiding your weakness,

How lucky we are to have a mom as such,

To have a mom whose greatest flaw is,

Loving her kids too damn much.

Mother and Child by Vicente Manansala

The Unclaimed Shadow Chapter 7

Only half her face was illuminated by the moonlight. Her violently colored lips were stuck in a static horizontal shape. Unless she smiled, her face retained a slightly annoyed, slightly bored look. It was because of this that he was constantly on the verge of breaking down whenever he was with her. He desperately wanted to erase that look on her face but he was never good with expressing himself. His past failures kept haunting him at night. All the “what ifs” and dead opportunities weighed heavy on his chest. But tonight, he was prepared. He didn't spend those sleepless nights twiddling his fingers. All that time, he had been refining his thoughts, all so he could form a connection with her.

She took out a thermos of hot coffee from her bag. “Do you know that you have the habit of just zoning out? It’s kinda rude. Am I not enough to keep your attention?” She said as her face was painted with the color of disappointment. She poured some coffee into a cup and handed it to him.

“…Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“About what?” She said as she leaned on him.

“Connections.” He replied absentmindedly.

“What kind?”

“The human kind. The strongest kind.”

“You’re kidding right? There’s nothing more fragile than human bonds.” She said, sounding annoyed or so he thought.

“I disagree. There’s nothing more worthwhile in the world than sharing a connection with someone.” He could feel her sweat permeating from her clothes. Still, she didn't move.

“I never said it wasn't worthwhile. Just because something is finite doesn't mean it doesn't have any value. In fact, I think unsolved love, the kind of love that ends prematurely, is the sweetest kind.”

“It’s also the most bitter.” He said before taking a sip of coffee. It was black and quite strong. And yet he couldn't get enough of it.

The Unclaimed Shadow Chapter 6

Bathing under the yellow glow of a lamppost, was a girl whose existence seemed to merge deeply with the scenery. It was as if there was no other way for that park to exist unless she stood under that very lamppost. He walked closer and with every step, her features started to get clearer. And with every step, his mind became hazier. Her eyes were the color of coffee with a bit of cream. He was tempted to say that they were average but somehow statistics and the laws of physics don’t really apply to her.

Her hair was a gravitational singularity. The light swirled around the waves of her hair before being consumed by its deep darkness. He was being pulled in as well. She smiled and gravity intensified.

“You’re late,” she said.

“Sorry, it’s hard to get a ride at this time of night.”

She feigned a look of disappointment. “Always indecisive, aren't you?”

Time sped up. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“Either apologize or give me an excuse. You can’t choose both,” she said. Her tone was playful but there was a degree of severity in her voice, imagined or otherwise.

“Sorry, it’s just how I am,” he said while showing his teeth.

She put her hand on the right side of his face and her thumb pulled the side of his mouth upwards. “You always look so sad... Let's go sit over there,” she said, pointing at a patch of grass a few feet away from them. She walked over there. He slowly orbited her.

God doesn't play dice with the world - Albert Einstein

The Unclaimed Shadow Chapter 5

The moon reflected the light of the sun in the same way a blade’s edge reflects light into the eyes of a victim. The faint moonlight lightly tapped his shoulders. The cold wind embraced him while he embraced his hopes for the night. This time he was ready. The words he carefully picked were tied up just below his throat, ready to burst out of his mouth at a moment’s notice.


He remembered something that Lucian of Samosata wrote about the Greek God, Momus. Momus criticized the work of Hephaestus, complaining about how humans were not given windows to their hearts. With their hearts closed to the outside world, their truest thoughts remain secret even to those closest to them.


But right now, his words must suffice. They have to. Even though they’re nowhere near as effective as a window to his heart. Words are more like a blind man’s imagination, free and wild, but rarely accurate.

"Change. Change. Change. Change … change. Change. Chaaange. When you say words a lot they don't mean anything. Or maybe they don't mean anything anyway, and we just think they do." -Delirium who was once Delight
(Painting by: Helena M. Cintra)

All In

It is always risk versus reward,
Your fate would you gamble in the cards?
Or just heed the song of the bards?
And stay safe and still,



Is indifference the right way?
Or is it just a fool’s fake play?
My thoughts like drunkards, they just sway,
Running from the bill,


Cold statues stay safe, unfeeling,
Warm flesh in danger of reeling,
It feels like my skin is peeling,
Guess I like the thrill.

Will you take a leap of faith for love?

The Unclaimed Shadow Chapter 4

His heart was beating with the desperation of a drowning fish. A gush of emotions brought on by a bunch of colored electronic dots on a screen; how pitiful, he thought. And then expectation gave way to ecstasy. It was a message from her. She said, “Hey, I saw you at the party last night. You were pretty wasted… lol. So anyways, since we didn’t get to talk last night, I was wondering if we could meet up for some coffee today.”

Suddenly blood was no longer flowing in his veins. Someone replaced it with caffeine, methamphetamine, and jet fuel. His hands shook, not like leaves, but like the earth when it nonchalantly adjusts its plates. Ecstasy gave the stage to the malformed Siamese twins, fear and anxiety. How could he possibly pick the right words for his reply? It was like trying to find the four perfect drops of water amidst the cruel vastness of the ocean. Slowly, he typed, “S… u…r…e.”

He felt the tsunami coming, a massive wave of salt and water coming to engulf him and everyone in a five mile radius. Oh how he yearned to drown in her. But then, just as the wave was about to hit, a breakwater the size of God’s thumb suddenly manifested. The water crashed into it and within seconds, dissipated like sweat on his forehead. He pressed send. Anxiety introduced him to regret. And regret hit him immediately.

Sometimes the walls you build to defend yourself, end up trapping you.
(Sculpture by HairyAsHell)

The Unclaimed Shadow Chapter 3

Everything was bright but not in a good way. It was the blinding kind of bright. Worse yet, his head was bursting. Not with meaningful thoughts, not with brilliant ideas, but with dull throbbing pain. He was sick in more ways than one. And that bothered him most of all. Is he restless because of the alcohol that he hasn’t yet expelled or is it because of the decisions that he can’t make; he won’t make.

It’s just a hangover. It’s definitely not nature rejecting my choices. My ailment is physical. The pain in my head is proof of that.

But the unidentifiable force that pulled him down unto his bed; that force that caused him to randomly claw on his face; that force was probably caused by the mass of his despair and frustrations. He sat up, held his head and tried to stand. Then he got caught in the event horizon. The blackness awaited him. And it would have consumed him, if not for that light. The sound his phone made has programmed his brain to release dopamine. Supernova, a star must die for this fleeting light show.

"Oft expectation fails and most oft there
Where most it promises, and oft it hits
Where hope is coldest and despair most fits."
-Bill Shakespeare

The Unclaimed Shadow Chapter 2

People smoked mania and drank liquid madness. Some wanted to forget while others fed the despair that they felt. There were those who mimicked the symptoms of happiness, hoping that the real deal will follow. He saw the futility of it all. He just wanted to go home. Then he saw her. She was indulging madness with another. Suddenly reality wasn't what it was cracked up to be. And insanity washed away his apathy in one giant wave of emotion. He was now stranded on an island surrounded by an ocean of alcohol. He made the stupid decision to drink until he found land, until he found home.

Memories flooded him. He was happy that he was drowning. The sound of her voice filled his lungs. The sweetness of her lips enveloped him. The words that won’t come out muffled his hearing. The “what ifs” that only exist in the shadow of his mind squeezed the entirety of his body. His consciousness floated in his false perceptions of her. Is he dreaming about her? Or was he just a figment of her imagination? Was he just the whims and wishes of a goddess given fleshy material form?

Either way, he was drowning in her. Yet he was still thirsty.

He woke up because his throat was parched. His bloodshot eyes witnessed the aftermath of insanity; the misery of learning that you could only reject reality for so long.

"When you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you." - Friedrich Nietzsche

Th Unclaimed Shadow Chapter 1

His body was in overdrive. His heart was blasting blood into his arteries. His skin expelled water to draw away the excess heat created by his straining vessel. A thunderstorm raged in his mind. Electricity carried information that was collected through years of education. Carefully, he chose among the arbitrary sounds that humanity has agreed upon. He willed his lungs to eject air through his vocal chords as he adeptly played the strings to create vibrations that he then molded with his tongue and lips.

“Hi.”

She smiled. She didn't just show her teeth out of courtesy or habit. She smiled and said, “Hey, what’s on your mind?”

He squirmed like a worm that hasn't come to terms with its mortality while it is being peppered with salt by a bored eight year old. He kept touching his face as if he was making sure that it was still there. He once spent an entire week locked up in his room with silence as his only friend. But now silence is torturing him with fire, which would explain all that sweat.

“Nothing much.” He said.

"Ok." She showed her teeth out of courtesy.

"The biggest cynics were once the most naive."

Night Ramblings

The lack of light always scares us, which is weird because everything stays exactly the same. The only difference is the fact that we can’t see. This isn't always bad. In fact, we tend to like being scared. We won’t admit it in the moment but once we look back, we call what was once a nightmare, an adventure. Maybe this is why I like staying up at night. I like being scared. Being scared of not knowing what comes next; being scared of the dark places that the human mind can wander into; and being scared of being the only burning mind in a world of apathetic blindness.

My father once told me that everyone thinks about everything that they have done wrong when the time comes to lie down and let the night take us. Not everyone will admit that though. Self-righteousness is a plague that’s worse than the very essence of evil itself. We can sympathize with evil. We have evil within us. But an evil man acting all righteous, now that is stomach turning. Like our very soul is rejecting this unnatural abomination in front of us.

Why do we start thinking about our depravities come night time? Is it because it is the only time that we can actually listen to our minds? Is that why we spend every waking hour of our lives looking for distractions? Or is it the fact that sleep is temporary death? And in the face of death, we realize who we really are. She strips us of our status, our wealth, our power, until all that’s left of us are the choices that we have made. And let’s be honest, aside from a few exceptions, they’re mostly bad choices.

Where is this really headed? I don’t really know. I’m just as lost as you. But hey, dawn is coming, that much is for sure. The distractions come back up online and we make more bad choices. My only solace is that maybe I will be a slightly better man come morning; just a little better. Hey, a guy can dream right? 

"The sadness will last forever." -Vincent Van Gogh