The fact of existence will proclaim:  people will judge the facade. They’ll be vicious to pry upon the superficial, never the loneliness. They’ll pick on you like freshly ripened grapes, ready to be consumed – devoured.

And it gets lonelier. Amplified by the emptiness of your whole being. Ultimately, you’ll be hallow, weighless. You will hear yourself think. Broken, it says. Lonely but not alone. You stand in a crowd with a sea with familiar faces but none too close to stay for the darkest hour. Because they thrive on the spotlight you bring. Feasting on the platter you offer. Free to take, unwilling to give.

You beg to be spared of the iniquity. Waiting to be absolved of  such cruelty. Aiming at an unknown target. No one’s there.  No one who’s kind not to persecute you even more. Forcing yourself to defend blindly.

You drift along the river, like a useless log. There’s nothing else to do. Just drift.


Battered… Tired… Restless
You look upon yourself
Through the weariness you conceal
Within your heart
Heartless… Unfeeling… Mindless
You wander on this earth
Playing your own god to your created realm
Stepping on anything
that trespasses your territory
that tries to penetrate
the wilderness of your own desire.

Cold … Lifeless… Arrogant…
You only listen to
What you think is right
Ignoring those who try to help you….
To correct you, to humble you…
Anything otherwise
Is a monster that must be conquered
That must be overcome…

Leech… Copycat… Unoriginal…
Anything other that
Threatens the way of your existence
Creating a kaleidoscope
Of sabotage, of betrayal,
Conniving and untrustworthy acquaintances.

Discontented… Unsatisfied… Greedy…
You assume your position
Placing the crown upon your head
You think is rightfully yours
But are you happy?
Or are you faking your happiness?
Loneliness… Misery… Doom…
I laugh at your arrogant spirit
Ha ha ha!
Your stuck to your selfish realm
With no one to lead, no one to follow,
Caged and imprisoned
In your own golden kingdom
Your fame becomes your loneliness
Your happiness becomes your destruction
Your claimed position becomes your misery
Your heartless soul becomes y our death…

Selfish… Narcissistic… Self-seeking…
The foundation you built
In every minute detail
Crumbles beneath the throne
You overbearingly flaunt to those
Who you think are inferior to you
Putting you to the deepest
And darkest recesses of your soul,
Pulling you to the one way
You oversaw to go before
You reached the top…
You go…
These are your paradoxes, your dimensions…
So who becomes your salvation now?

nomadic illusion

This was an entry to my university’s annual literary journal. I was on my last year in college. Luckily, it was one of the four entries my brother submitted that was published (all of them published)- one check on my list to do before I graduated..

I opened my eyes,
ready to accept fate
and search for myself
in this wanton place
but then I realized
the world is merely an illusion
of an unceasing quest
for the one you could never be,
ignoring the simple answers
you ignored inside yourself.

You searched and failed
to look for a permanent shelter,
becoming a wanderer you never intended
the world is merely an illusion my friend,
an unceasing quest
for simple answers
that beg to be left alone,
warning you of their forbiddingness,
or you pay the price of unlocking Pandora’s box.

But you risked to know who you are
the one who’s trapped in a bottomless hole,
going through the pretenses
and braving through the deceptions,
trying to dive deeper
than you originally planned,
hoping to get nearer
but in the process, got farther
farther away from
what they really want to reveal
pushing you up the surface,
saving you from more airless world,
covering your ears, blinding your eyes.

You try to uncover your ears,
Hoping to listen to one bit of clue
but you only found yourself in a whirlpool
of  confusion, of dilemma,
challenging your ideals
that takes you back again
to where you started
should the truth continue to be known
inspite of knowing you merely live in illusion,
in denial of that illusion
of what you really are
of how well you really know yourself?

You are labeled and branded,
calculated in every detail,
of your superficial being,
of what rabbit you’ll follow to the hole,
from where you came from
towards this unnerving illusion.
Or should you take the blue pill instead of the red
to continue living in your damned illusion.

Try to open your eyes
but try as you may,
you cannot see
beyond this illusion
you only know and trust
what is visible, of what is acceptable
to you and you alone.
You clean your ears,
hoping to hear better
but you can only hear the unmade sounds
of a heart that has long been forsaken.

You try to understand
but there’s hardly something to understand, is there?
Or has understanding ever really existed?
Is there something to understanding
when you’re merely looking for something
that merely goes through you,
that sifts through your tired soul,
revealing only the inessential fragments
of your overused emotion
rather than the essential remnants
of who you truly are…?
Lucky you…
You‘ve just sold your chance
to taste freedom…
and bought back your slavery for deception…
you who live in pretenses…
you who tried to dive deeper
into the hole…
but only found the mirage of your
own reflection…
wandering around your chances…
becoming a nomad in this world of illusion….
Living in the concealment of your guarded emotion…


the flowers began to fall
From the grasp of the sun
In spite of its plea for chances
That they have doubted to come.
Their stems slowly unattach
In spite of the love that has grown
Now surrendered to the promises
That has long said adieu.
Their senescence willed them to wither
Amidst the thriving awakened sun
With an unconcious permission
To kiss them by its toxic rays
That always possessed to stay
However it could be done
Unmindful of the flaws that tag along
Resulting to the suffocation of a spirit.
With the death of the flowers’ beauty
Came the regret of the sun’s bounty
Damned to watch growth and death by its rays
It only yearned to caress the earth’s warmth
And by its kiss,
came the overwhelming realization
That it has the power to create a life
With the inevitable curse of witnessing death
By which it is also its doing.


It’s quite revealing to regard that a smile is not supposed to be taken as it is: a sign of happiness, of contentment in life… In most realities, a smile is a facade – defense mechanism in order to shun inquiries of unhappiness or discontentment in life. It is a fictional adaptation of what they really want to feel; a diversion from the gradual destruction of self-esteem and of belief.

I’ve been lucky enough to have friends that have been able to help me rise above the pretentious nature of a smile. they know how to gauge my feelings; they have seen me through my worst. they have been able to nurse the feeling of unworthiness not by providing me with the shit of caressing my ego but by simply being able to silently be there and wait for me to take comfort in them, they just sit by me. With these things, I am very thankful that they have been able to bring the real smile out of me…

Maybe, to some, a smile is a barometer of happiness. to me, it’s a way of not explaining how I am right now even when i badly need a shoulder to cry on. It’s a way of letting bad feelings go, of bad energies not to sink into me and my whole outlook on life. I don’t need to hold a grudge forever…