lupok

01/15/09

*

today, i woke up with a gunshot

from the land of dreams and swaying paperdolls

from the ceiling… because of this at 5:36am

and because of the realization that

i can also give up

really give up on people.

 

 

 

 

“i am so sorry, i hope you are awake.

im in this bus on my way to your hometown. i just want to see you now more than ever.

but if you want me to go back, i’d do it.”

 

after nearly a year,

he looked at his greatest. 

his t-shirt proved that he was there in places i used to long for.

 

“can i have your handkerchief, i have terrible flu.”

so i sneezed terribly hard, with all those 

deafening effect in my eardrums.

 

“i can’t start. i can’t move on. i have been sleepless these past few nights.

i just want to wander around with no direction, im lost.”

 

i bit the morning burger,

it tasted like the 5-sec gargle i did today

 

“you’re just sad. we do stupid things when we are sad.”

 

“you’re just telling me that because you have moved on, because you are stronger”

 

“i earned this. if for the past years, i have swallowed my whole self too much for people i choose to keep, not this time.”

 

he was an anchor,

but the coast was slimy

and the ship was overloaded

 

“why are you too cold? too insensitive? your words are too shallow now.”

 

 ”im sorry but thank you, you answer half of the agony

that has been at war inside me.”

“i ask for nothing, i just want to see you.”

the morning cold swept the crystals, ready to jump from his eyelids,

like firemen from a burning asylum

 

and when they finally fell

i shared my cold left had to his warm right,

“do this for your self. there is a girl waiting for you and she’s been there. you told me about her last time and  i knew you and her would be great.

do this for your self. your parents are in an island and your sister got nice hair. and me, im better off this way.”

 

“actually, the moment i saw you standing there, your face looked at peace with the highway.”

 

“yes.”

and so i pulled his arm and asked him to choose sweat shirts and 

board shorts for me, in the ukay-ukay

where stories pile on a long bamboo table

and every shirtless man whores that

black shirt 

which might have been thrown by a girl

who pledged to build a wall

this cold time of the year

 

and one, day she will smash her body

against it, like bottles of oil

and sand.

 

 i bid him goodbye

and like a fog, the wheels curled and got lost

like everything else i used to wake-up to 

at night.

 

 

 

.