I have been seeing snakes lately.

They slide and wait.
They watch.
They see.
They wait for the right moment –
to coil the last air of your belief.
One sharp bite to the next.
They feel.
They smell.
They are apathetic.
The tides will turn
and you will see.
How doubt tears us into three.

I don’t know about you but
I have been seeing snakes lately.

Bittersweetly, she knew all along
Yet she chose to unsee all the wrong
Indeed, beware of the deviant soul
Darkness wasn’t a keeper after all

A Life Well Wasted

I wish I could make them see what I see
The image of a young girlĀ so free
I go with the motion of the stars
Concealing repeatedly pelted scars

Such a bittersweet thing to witness
A family of smiles terrifies the darkness
Memories of intoxicated hopefuls
Marching towards eternal limbo sinful

Now my years are now days
To fall from grace is to fall in place
I wish I could make them see what I see
A life well wasted but I’m happy…


Night Sirens

Probably one of the best text conversations I’ve ever been in.

Friend: The thought returned to me as I glanced at the starless welkin. What did the shadows say to the friend?

Me: Let a starless welkin signify that darkness currently envelopes that of which is supposed to brighten the night.

“Indeed. What stirs within its still embrace?”

“The night sirens whispers that they wish it was of substance in connection with merely of academic foundations but alas! It is not, and that makes these night sirens grievous.”

“Liars, these sirens be. For sirens exist only in the sea. Be brave. Perhaps true rest is key, how ever unwanted you think it be.”


I’ll never know
Why rainbows disappear too quickly
Just when it looked so beautiful
You’ll never know
How I hold memories too dearly
Sometimes it feels too awful

I’ll never know
Who I am before you sleep
What I am when I’m away
You’ll never know
When I think too deep
It hurts me to fear you this way

I’ll never know
Why you only emanate in sadness
And fade when things are fine
You’ll never know
With you, I chose darkness
Over someone else’ sunshine

I’ll never know
The things I need to see
The truth I should understand
You’ll never know
The truth you should see
The things you could understand

I’ll never know.
And neither will you.

The House with a Thousand Doors

Everyone knew she was so fascinated with doors that she built a whole house full of them. In that house, there were over 1,000 doors. Large and small, thin and thick, to the sturdiest to the weakest materials they were made. And everyday, she did nothing but open doors, from room to room to room. That’s what she does. That was known to be her eccentric hobby she often got misunderstood with.

There were doors that were made of steel. These were the hardest to go through, for she needed to open a million locks before the doors can be opened. A great number of all the doors in the house were wooden and they were easy to open. They have only their doorknobs as their locks. A small number of doors were made of thin metal screens. They just need to be pushed or pulled to be opened. There were certain places in the house that were doorless but they were very very few. But these were her favorite for she did not need to open a door anymore to come in.

But there is something peculiar about these doors. Everyday, they change depending on how often she comes through them. On top of being the hardest to open, most of the time, the steel doors never changes no matter how many times she untiringly enters through them. The wooden doors were easy to open but they can be frustrating for they easily change to steel doors if she doesn’t come through them all the time. Though few, the screen doors were the easiest to open and the most important to open everyday. However, they can be difficult, for some screen doors change back to wooden doors or worse, steel doors in just a snap. Some of them disappear and become doorless, but this rarely, rarely happens. It’s not impossible but it doesn’t happen all the time.

Everyone in the community mocked her for living in a house with a thousand doors and opening them everyday. She was judged, misunderstood and called names. Little did they know it was a life-long curse and the house was her prison.

She was bedamned to make the house completely doorless or she wouldn’t be able to leave and be trapped in it forever. 21 years have passed and every single day, she did her best to open them one by one. There were some doors she wanted to disappear so badly that she worked hard for them to change but her efforts were in vain. There were some wooden doors that eventually changed into screen doors and she strongly felt they would become doorless soon. But often times, she comes back and these doors change to wooden doors again.

One day, she finally realized that making the house completely doorless was an impossible thing to do, for the doors change every time. Because ironically, change is the only constant thing in the world.

And so she knew she needed to escape.

The highest floor of the house was doorless and she knew its walls, the weakest. In her despair, she desperately cut a small opening in the middle of the wall. And so finally… Finally, she saw the outside world. The smell of fresh air from high above was tantalizing and she craved the sound of peace. So without looking back at the house with a thousand doors, she set herself free.

Writer’s Block?

Those moments when you feel small, pressured and paralyzed by rules. I need to write to feel, but without feeling I cannot write.

Finals is nearing and I am getting sad. I’m getting sad because people are expecting too much of me (and I, myself) when I am very pessimistic about my “talents”. I don’t even think I am talented. I am skilled. Not talented. There is a difference.

The most famous writers took them a long long time to have a breakthrough in their craft. They had to undergo a million failures before having one successful story recognized in all of their writing careers. JK Rowling was a rejected writer of many novels before she became one of the most idolized writers in our century with the Harry Potter series. But in time, it was fruitful.

But in design school, it’s different. I need to pass my plates. I need to meet my professor’s standards. I need to maintain high grades I’ve gotten from midterms for finals. I need to be creatively perfect. This is why I loathe the standards of society because this is what they put in our heads and we fear it. Society creates our demons in us. They expect students to be excellent in a short span of time and I don’t think I can do that. Not even two months of time can be enough to write a literary masterpiece and I need to be excellent and creative enough to deliver one in less than a month.

I am a visionary about a lot of things but I am not a creative genius. I need time that I don’t have. So God help me.