what the word means.

Not the dictionary, or whatever the WWW points out.
Perhaps delirious, but I am not getting all the right vibes. Or even the vibes that I am expecting.

Just hunger, plain old hunger.

And when someone's personal bubble is nickel plated, it would be very hard to pierce.

And I can feel my heartbeat when I am lying face down on the floor.

It doesn't only tell me I am alive, I am also vulnerable.

some kind of underwater love.

Without the fishes, only the envelope of almost all the senses.

you up for this?

The air just keeps getting colder, enough to be felt in my dreams. A real presence during early mornings, even if your body is hot enough to melt butter.

Getting cold.

Know a better way to be warm?

the other one will understand.

Even the loopholes of your mind, or perhaps feign it perfectly there will be no difference.

For some reason, you fear that this just might be the case, that the former is just an ideal of the mind. Unlike orgasms.

And this fear puts you on the edge, and to the point that at times you will seriously contemplate jumping (although you will wait for the push).

Then the wind comes and the sun sets. The cold has teeth, all incisors.

Holding hands is a much better recourse than this, you think. So you go back

I saw you today.

Inside me; I think I saw your teeth, them beautiful whites.

Smiling. Interactive memory is daydreaming? Oh.

But I load it up every time there is a wonderful chance of leveling up, even if it all comes crashing down when I switch it off, and the memory card often fucks up and you see, I can't save most of the time.

Would have been beyootiful.

But the thing is I would still be able to see you, almost anytime.

Anywhere.

That is the wonder of it. The 'almost' then just to state the unpredictability of being human and the vulnerability of being human. Because you'd realize that everything is bigger than anything you will ever be once you get past the truth that being unique is only a state of mind that only the youth belong to.

until I return.

Can I consider myself lost.

A question and a statement. Or have I ever been found.

More of a question now. Something not to be concerned with, just a thought for the rainy days. Perhaps a walk in this afternoon sun would warm some things.

Climate control can be so cold at times. More than you think.

Are you still young? Or going somewhere? Just a few seconds away. In taking and in giving, there has to be more. Or should there be less.

I guess, therein lies the guilt.

new songs.

The littlest bones in my body knows.

Meanwhile distraction is having no effect on whatever familiarity is left.

Dislocated seems a small word now, an understatement. Walking alone here can never give the same feeling as walking alone back there; there just is no connection, only yourself to connect with.

Worse is the night sky embroidered with the orange nightglow that never seems to fade, the sky is just a void.

It swallows up all the conversations in your mind when you look up at it.

Concrete.

some twenty forgotten reasons.

of why. and an ellipsis of whys.

yes, a continuation of our battle against strangeness. and our own closeted emotions,

that I think we might have forgotten being human is more about feeling. than thinking logically.

so please put down your cell phone, I guess it is better this way.
unencumbered by the intricacies of technology

just you looking at me, me drowning in return.

yes, better this way. nearsighted as my vision,

but true anyway.

borders of summer.

And it’s music that has made me want to come around again, to look behind, to go on that journey to a place where I’ll never find myself again; just a travesty of sentimentality, even if I could look at the sun again and not feel the fear of going blind.

Even if time does not exist, something still passes for it around here, I think I have just gotten the hang of walking around the plain of consciousness and emotional discomfort, that I know I can shake hands with myself.

A ballpoint pen cap, a covered window 12 floors up, missing you, and all things I can notice at the moment, yes, this all makes sense again. A wonder if I am going down again, going down in a glide and that makes it all feel so warm.

And I am in a bit of anxiety about that.

But oh, let me see the night again, even without a guitar for a moment, I just want to reach and know that my fingers will grasp something instead of the evening air. Even so far from everything familiar and comfortable. I would love that, I miss myself and I guess holding myself in all its loneliness is a comfort far from anything.

How are you?

Answers, and more questions, but I am looking forward to it because everything seems suddenly new to me again, like rain and sunsets during certain days.
You know, perhaps I’ll see that moon again, even blurred as my near-sighted eyes can afford. It will still be a sight.

Solitude.

Now that I have the time for the lady.

Desperately wanting,
And the satisfaction of being there is elusive. Staring at the skies, I just realized, does not help that much; barely, in fact.

Like the slightest breeze, and it’s a gloomy day.

15 floors up, and I can see the ocean from here and I miss that too.
I don’t miss the sun. One of the original sad men, that’s why the preference for rain.
Not the golden globe.

I am going to hold somebody in my arms soon; in about two months time.
and Solitude’s not being an easy lay;
being far is cracking me up in the most unexpected places, and I know that Solitude’s a good glue.
I also want to go home.

point B.

after point A.

I imagine myself going on like fumes and exhaust, going on through EDSA traffic at at seven in the evening. straight on through, without stopping, and at the moment beyond all of this. I am going to point B. and i think for now that is all that matters, perhaps it is all that will matter. and without any sign at all, I have moved. going there.