Life is a struggle
Armed with a bare-knuckle

Born out of ancient rubble
Collecting what chance has to offer

If you have what it takes
It rewards you with inequality -
Objective prosperity with emotional disparity

But if by chance you are misplaced
You get to see the devil’s face
Just as real as that loving gaze
You strive to see and tend to praise

Dazed by the gravity of objective reality
No matter the cost, we strive for more clarity

This isn't what you need.
I, am not what you need.
It's just I need to find a solution,
Ostensibly, I look for it in everyone.
Wherever I go, I make it up as I go along,
I imagine what could be true
In a fanciful and quixotic place.

I'm not trying to make you,
Or anyone else my personal conquest;
Or an object to fill my spiritual journey,
I am not intending to lose you after finding myself.
And I'm sorry,
In case any of these things have,
Or will, come true.

I don't need
     your     namaste flower-
power    poetry         words
     that       barely break   the
skin               give me something
strong like gin     something with
a little                sin.

        I don't want your
fluffy words               I want something       seldom heard
    something I          can always use
something that'll        leave a bruise
           so bomb the page I'll
light                the                 fuse.

Tears drown my cheeks as the brisk air caresses my chin
The unerring coercion calls itself
home
This vice-ly steel; these foreign teeth
the man beside me asks
"who were you"
I answer
"I was a lot of things."

it's strange—
on some nights,
i lie down on my bed
in the evening heat only Manila could give,
i feel like my soul drifts from
this body i could never love,
it decides to leave and venture off elsewhere
because i'm always just wishing i were somewhere else

then suddenly, i feel the weight of my bones again
i'm back in my bedroom,
and my body is sinking into the mattress
because when i realize i'm still where i am,
i want to disappear instead

Waves of blue destroy the shore,
Littering particles of memory behind.
Flashes jump and fade before grasped,
Eyes closed embracing the sea breeze.

I lived in a castle made of sand,
I gazed through sea glass windows.
I swam in a bucket of bliss,
I buried my woes with a shovel.

Ocean storms destroyed my home,
Brewed by rage buried beneath me.
Photographs covered the shore,
And my shovel was misplaced.