Dave Matthews, past 3am.

and the heavens just washed things over again and my 12th floor musings are about going home and walking along somewhere during afternoons there, watching the wrinkles time has lovingly etched on my home city, then seeing the new skin sticking out in most places now, and again seeing the way it gets dark here again, suddenly making me feel much cleaner and freer, even if older.

and up here, the buildings are still safe from sight, I can imagine cold mountains beyond the mixed decadence and progress of this city, I guess my thoughts really want to go home along with me, even if they reach my destination first before me, then looking out again, knowing that a few hours from now the dim hazy outlines of these buildings will show, gray and unnatural in the gloom of this continuous drizzle, and it makes more of my thoughts want to be warm in the sheets of my bed and your hands and Rain's diminutive embrace.

but I guess, I'd have to sleep first, and that hint of blue creeping in the black stillness of my 12th floor horizon is just assurance that I'm still here, semi-stuck and wishing, and looking at the gathering rain, consoling my thoughts that at least it's going to rain.

give me a warm embrace anyone
run your fingers along my face.
and perhaps a few stories for my thoughts.

in this rain. keep me company.

the new painful words.

It rained this afternoon, in this dirty city; quick and harsh. It had no grace or subtlety, or grand opening scenes or fade to black happily ever after. I watched and thought about some other place where this rain would fall divinely, but seeing only concrete the wish made me sadder than usual. I slept after the last drop fell, exhausted and depressed and not wanting to go melodramatic at the moment, and just gave in to black, dreamless slumber.

I woke up to fluorescent lights, harsh and sudden yet again, searing my eyes to an early evening. I found out I was cold a few seconds later, and thinking about the water temperature of my bath. I guess it still rained again after I slept, much longer this time and I was still thinking about some other place, where I had blanket and a pillow for wonderfully cold rainy afternoons.

I probably think that the most part of my income would have been spent trying not to go crazy here. the cinema, clothes, shoes, phone bill, etc and food, yes glorious food; these are just avenues for staying sane. But I don't need any extravagance of those things now, I have Rain, and she makes all the difference.

And clutching this tabo, past seven in the evening, wondering how cold it would really be, I came back to her words, the two new painful words here in Manila.

"Hello"

"Papa"

I still have work, and this is as cold as it gets.