I hope when she kisses you
she tastes all the I love yous and
forevers you spit down my throat

I hope when she rests her head
on your chest at night she hears
your heart still echoing my name

I hope when she holds you close
she feels traces of my arms that
held you while you cried so hard

And I hope she feels so fucking sick

—  I feel so fucking sick

Unfair [Part 2]

“What do you want?” - He interrupts her melancholic thoughts, his voice dry, harsh and tired.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” - She murmurs under her breath, pulling her knees to her chest. It’s always a lottery. Some days he will burst into anger and throw her all the way across the room, other days he will tolerate her presence with annoyed sigh.
“Then go make yourself useful. Daddy’s busy. C'mon, get off my sight.”
She hesitates for a moment. She doesn’t want to get into a fight, but she doesn’t want to leave either. Finally she curls in a chair tighter and looks away, for looking him in the eyes for too long sets him off almost instantly. He hates his eyes, she doesn’t understand why, to her they are more beautiful than anything the world can offer. She tells him that sometimes, but doesn’t agree. He never does.
“I told you to get out.” - He repeats, his frustration growing. She can feel it with every inch of her skin as if the air itself suddenly became thicker.
“Get. Out. Now.”
She feels the tears burning in the corners of her eyes, but she tries to hold them back.
“I don’t want to.”
“I don’t remember asking for your opinion. Out, princess, now, unless you want me to get up and make you leave.”
She scoots out of the chair and walks towards the door, not willing to test her luck, but still slamming it harder than she should.
It’s unfair. Sometimes she thinks it would be easier if he hated her, but he doesn’t. The amount of emotion he shows her is already a miracle for a man like him. She knows it and she accepts it and yet it hurts nonetheless. If only he would let her stay, if only he would let her love him and care for him, if only he would speak his mind and share his worries… But she knows that wouldn’t be him, that would be a different man and she doesn’t need a different man. She wants him and nobody else. Loving him is not easy, it’s not pretty and very hurtful at times. She knows he’s too damaged to give, too hurt to trust, but she loves him the best she can anyway, for she knows deep down in his own way he cares for her as well. She couldn’t wish for anything else, she would die for him, but he wants her to live for him. He never lets her have it the easy way. Sometimes it feels unfair or perhaps sometimes she just needs to cry herself to sleep…

Maybe you would think that I would’ve loved you more if you were skinny and your eyes were blue, and your hair was dark and straight, and your laugh was acute than it already is.

Yes…. Maybe I would’ve loved you more if you were all those things. Maybe I would’ve loved you just the same if you weren’t.

But I am sure that at this very moment—you are perfect just the way you are. That you don’t have to be the person you have to be because the person that you are right now is the one I am in love with.

And if you do change as a person—then my love for you would remain the same.

—  Juansen Dizon
Today is stay-in-bed-like-a-vegetable-day.
I’m going to stay in bed till I grow roots and shoots.
Shoots which snake out from my neck,
My shoulders,
My back,
My buttocks,
My legs,
My toes.
Roots which sink slimy claws into the rotting mattress, binding the springs to the cheap bed boards.
I’ll be a creepy crawly vine
With fine-tuned limbs branching out in your direction.
I’ll be a botanical mystery with a fruity head and
Seedy eyes.
I’ll taste like aubergine and my landlady will throw me out.
She’ll rent out my cupboard room to travelers with money…and
I’ll creep into the compound garden and flourish next to the ridiculous fish pond.
I will parasitize the trees.
Termites will colonize my brain. 
I’ll fraternize with the ghost of the turtle that died and 
Tadpoles will honour me with lily parties.
Today is stay-in-bed-like-a-vegetable day.
Let the laziness begin.
—  TREE ME (Magic Spells from the Cosmic Dragon)

Small houses on the rock.

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Half Life

I don’t know why I act this way
Like darker seasons are all that come
Rush for fall, expecting snow
Constantly bracing myself
Shorter days, stripped exposed
Afraid who I am bleeds through
Take charge, overwhelm
Plucking myself, pretty pain
Sprint to winter, hiding
I’m dead