Molecular Sea

*Today’s word play brought to you by home made affogato-induced palpitations, James McMurtry on loop, during a 15 minute break from productivity

Inside my biological makeup of lucidities
And freeflowing what’s the matter
Amassed chubbiness and cheekiness
Spills of Bene-tinted blush
Some blood I hoped you’d never see bleed
Circulating chapters of conceptual nonsense in digestion
Matters of the heart I’d like to leave be
Stored particles which had been left to me
Along naturally lit spaces that map out
Thread counts of comforters and morning blues
Of arbitrary interim homes to miss
There are currents of caffeine and imbalanced chemicals
That tug and thwart me against my untamed wind
To the many opposites of a tumultuous sea
Like up and down; east and west
Right and wrong; pride and want
All and/or what seems like nothing
Fight or flight to flee
Right brain and leftist sympathies
Intellect sans a segment of my soul pinned to a thread
Convention and Alice-type-too-muchiness
This tropical garden; a distant snowcapped moutain
Outward and inward; to you and more of me
I’ve laid out some glass jars to catch some rainwater
That just might mend me staggering into second place peace

molecularsea

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The plight of the baby’s breath

*I tend to revisit photos I took from one of my favorite writing assignments for the school paper which was a Valentine’s Day feature a year ago. Wish I could revisit Dang Wa again but it’s gotten too hot so maybe on a cloudy cool day. I have a thing for wild looking flowers, as in roadside wildflowers haha

Florists have tucked stems of baby’s breath in and around larger centerpiece breeds for bouquets and flower arrangements for a long time now. They come a lot cheaper than the average showstopper rose and tulip. However as the wallflower of the flora world, in bundles especially, it has a standalone charm despite appearing precarious and delicate rendering it an extra on rotation in a commercial shop. Imagine being the decor for what’s already regarded as decor. But the baby’s breath’s hushed prettiness tugs at you in contrast along the dampened streets of a busy flower market against the medley of vendors trading in green for a sea of colors, a sight already typical in a place where bigger is usually better.

Monday done light

Start of the week errands with some shopping in a virtually empty mall at opening hour with Mom. Feels a lot like the Ayala I grew up in. It’s been a hectic, fun week of family, food, and friends, and the next will be another.

A light drizzle, a light breeze, the windows are open in between school work and online hunting for craft beer. A light cup of Bataan brew that I finally got right without tearing the filter paper for the improvised, almost pour over. A lightly thawed slice of Purple Oven’s chocolate campfire cake leftover from my brother’s birthday celebration. Then some heavy reading for class, then some light yoga in my room, and sneaking in cable in the background.

This is how to like a Monday, and perhaps the rest of the busy week.

Cold showers

Summer began
with the heat of ending conversations,
from the fiction of your push and my pull,
and the way some of those words burnt me,
and it hurt.

Summer began
with lasting cold shoulders,
the only kind of cold that ever bothered me,
and how I sit under each cold shower,
waiting for artificial rainwater
to take me away.

tub

was gonna use a real photo I had but it’s in my laptop

Reality o’clock

I go to bed with the thought in my mind, giving me an unfitting sense of comfort and hope. I dream the unlikely, the impossible, mistakenly thinking it’s all real. I wake up to find that it’s not. No calls, wrong messages, daunting reality. I wake up to find that everyday it’s gone. 

Baby blue, caffeine-infused

*I haven’t had much junk in my system the last few weeks, not too sure why. I’ve been avoiding coffee and tea on purpose however. The last time I drank some English breakfast tea if you read the post below, and it wasn’t even so long ago haha just this week, it really really came back to bite me. I feel I don’t need the caffeine anyway, even if I love the taste and aroma so much. My brother told me although it’s good for the heart, it’s healthy, it’s a stimulant, so it’s also quite responsible for mood swings. I’ve been moody prior to learning how to drink coffee or tea though but I do believe it’s still a substance and I don’t react well to substances. I think it makes me a little more erratic and impulsive. Physically, I tend to get palpitations especially when I’m not in a good place. Like now. It also keeps me up and these days I don’t want to be kept up. If it isn’t school work keeping me up, I have enough in my mind to do that for me. But today, after not having eaten good-proper meals over the last two weeks, my mom decided to take me to an afternoon high tea place cause I usually love those, and we bumped into some other ladies. To keep me a little busy in the midst of their 4-hour conversation, I had myself more than the usual amount of caffeine that any one person would order for leisure. So much for skipping out. And boy do I feel weird. So here’s another crappy poem I’m not proud of.


Caffeine makes a heart break a little faster and a little slower.
She thought she was carrying a near broken heart tucked underneath a baby blue dress that gleamed of summer love.
It was heavy.
There were sharp edges in the walls that surrounded it for protection that did come back to hit her hard.
It sunk.
And in an attempt to carry on as normally as possible, she took casual sips from the good things in life. Tea cups of cheer-me-ups.
But then her insides drowned further in a creamy brown.
It caused her injured heart to toss and tumble throughout the rest of the day, like she did all night and all morning in bed.
“Would you like another round of impulse and regret?”
“What about a warm cup of anxiety this time? To keep you up with all your worst nightmares coming true with your eyes wide open.”
Fruity notes of Earl Grey watered the wounds she blames herself for.
A latte left to get cold never burned so much.
She looks out the car window, finds herself at home glancing past the bedroom window this time, wondering about time yet again.
It’s going too slow and all the more too fast.
She fumbles to crack open a bottle of water for a change.
Mineral water has never left such a bitter taste in her mouth.
It’s never been this hard to drink down.
She’s filled with water and caffeine in her system, spinning in hopelessness, humbly disguised in her baby blue dress which she’s just taken off because it doesn’t help.

breakinfused

when ya still want sadness to look pretty anyway

Bed over troubled water

*Must’ve written this 4 days ago according to the draft details… But it applies to each of my mornings the last week or two, still. 

A moment of judgmental shame for my new found passive aggression towards sleep.
I don’t want to sleep because in the silence of everything, little monsters come out to play. If I do fall asleep, don’t wake me up because waking up to real life can be just as daunting.

afloat

deep waters scare me, they make me feel uneasy so you get my “drift”