When they made me, they broke the mold.

My inner demons compel me to write this entry.

2009-11-26T14:03:56Z

Nothing's helping. I can feel myself slowly slipping away into God knows what. Sometimes I think I'm going mad. I hate being locked with my thoughts. I haven't touched a drink for five days - sobriety is driving me insane. I need someone to be with or else I might do something crazy. These days the things that enter my head scare me. They leave me afraid and at the same time thrilled.

I started hearing voices about a month ago - when I began that dumb eight day drinking spree. I think it was during the third day and I was with my cousin trying to sleep the alcohol away when I heard voices talking to me. They were voices of people I know telling me stuff that I've heard before. Now, even when I'm not drunk, I sometimes hear voices but I can't make out what they say. The scariest is when I only hear laughter.

I think I'm slowly losing my mind.

This place is transforming into something alive. I can feel the walls breathing - trying to tell me something. When I can't bear being inside the house, I go out and sit at random parts of the garage and try to purge all thoughts from my head. It never works. I keep thinking and thinking... and I can feel something breaking inside of me. Like my soul is trying to escape my body.

On top of all that, I keep having strange dreams and all of them involve my ex-girlfriend. Several times she was the focal point of my dreams but when she isn't, she just makes a sudden appearance. Once, I had a dream that I was water. A flood, actually. I was racing through an unknown street bowling over anything that stood in my way when I suddenly couldn't move. I couldn't flow. Then I saw her walking out of a dark alley holding a purple umbrella in her right hand and her left hand clasping the hand of a black mass shaped like a man.

And that isn't the only time I've encountered that black mass shaped like a man in my dreams.

Sleeping terrifies me now. Every night I try to keep sleep from getting a hold of me but I always lose. My dreams are getting more bizarre every night. Most of the time I try to keep from sleeping by standing up. I go to my window and look at the trees and try in vain to spot some gruel crime that only I could see. I fell asleep twice standing up.

My stock of alcohol is wiped out. I just checked. Fuck. I really need a drink. I can't calm down.

hotpoetic @ 2009-11-26T21:06:00

2009-11-26T13:06:38Z

I hate how looking at your picture makes me feel like I'm the biggest zero on the planet.

hotpoetic @ 2009-11-25T13:09:00

2009-11-25T05:03:37Z

I just finished reading a book and just when I put it down, rain began to pour outside. A light rain that I couldn't see out the window but could hear. Just as I was beginning to put some bizarre meaning to the sudden occurrence of rain and my putting down the book, the downpour stopped. I am going to check outside now to see if the ground is wet.

It is wet.

I haven't been able to talk with anyone today. I guess everyone is busy with work or whatever. What's new? Well, nothing. Really. I had my dreams invaded by her again and maybe that's part of the reason why I'm feeling so desolate today.

I have two other books waiting to be read upstairs but my mind is wandering too much for me to focus on reading. I'm also afraid of running out of books to read. I'm broke and I don't have enough money to buy a book and sustain my vices at the same time.

It's funny how all of the paragraphs in this entry of mine beging with the letter 'I'.

How long will i be holding on to the ghost that you've become?

2009-11-14T07:13:07Z

Green Thumbs

From your mouth I plucked flowers
and strung them about
your jet black hair
In turn, you drew a leafless tree
from my barren heart
and planted it firmly behind you
I drew you close to obscure my sight
I tasted coffee on your tongue
mixed with a lust sharper
than a sword,
more poignant than any word I know
I opened my eyes as we locked lips
and stared at the flowers

I swear I saw my name on one of the petals.

Then, swift as the kiss came
so did my desire leave, replaced
with a grief so profound
I had to stop.

The lonely tree leapt back
in my heart
its branches bearing the
letters of your name.

A Separation in Four Parts

2009-11-12T14:58:58Z

I'm just re-posting from Facebook.

I

This divide is clearly defined
but the cut isn't clean
It is a
filthy,
festering wound
replete with the requisite worms

II

Memory, oh damned memory,
that thief in the night
that prowls dreams and
prods at you with a rusted knife

Memory, oh dear memory,
when can I elude your stare?
When all I have remaining
is the web you wove
over my being?

The thief leaves with heavy pockets
and I, left with empty ones, slumber.

III

The morose majesty of picturing your
jet black hair on my brown skin
is sweeping and lethal

I used to dream you up
dressed in pure white
Now I want to see you
drenched in salt and red

(Your eyes reflected mine
but now I see that we
loved on borrowed time)

IV

I danced to your malefic melody
ignorant of the charms you lay others
You provided a beat so entrancing
so deliciously inviting
I had no choice but to close these eyes
and submerge myslef in you
And here I am left chasing
ghosts of our drawn out dance

hotpoetic @ 2009-11-12T09:47:00

2009-11-12T01:54:22Z

Last night I had a dream and you were in it. You were wearing that shirt that always exposed enough cleavage to stir my loins into a frenzy. I asked you if you loved your new guy and you said no with a chuckle. Then I asked if you still loved me and you said no without hesitation. In my dream, I smiled at your reply and I proceeded to touch you in the secret places that I knew would get you hot.

You gave off a throaty laugh and pulled at my neck to kiss me. That was when I woke up. It seemed so real. Your smell was permeating my messy room.

The last time I saw you was about a month ago and I remember that you wore a pair of sexy red shoes that went extremely well with your black pants and black shirt. You looked every bit the heart breaker. I could have loved you with a force that would rock the cosmos. I did...and you know that.

A few minutes ago, I lit up a cigarette and thought about my dream. I knew I shouldn't have so I occupied the few remaining seconds following the smoke waft through the air with my still sleepy eyes. I cursed myself for letting my guard down for an instant and thinking that I want you back. I know better than to dance that dance again. Maybe it's just your absence but I felt leagues better when you were with me and together we conquered the lonely streets.

hotpoetic @ 2009-11-06T16:15:00

2009-11-06T08:19:13Z

I can't understand
How the rain falls exactly
when I need it to

hotpoetic @ 2009-11-02T01:54:00

2009-11-01T17:54:47Z

I'm drunk again and all I can say is woohoo let's go party!

hotpoetic @ 2009-10-30T12:30:00

2009-10-30T04:48:29Z

I got piss-ass drunk again last night. Again, I made wrong decisions which would probably cost me in the long run. It sucks when your friends slap you in the face with every hurt you unconsiously dealt them through the years because you were so blinded by a love that turned out false. It sucks but as they said, "Tough love, Jong."

I am sorry for every single thing that I have done in my life. Right now, I need to be by myself. I'll stop the excessive drinking, the constant hanging out, the pity parties that I seem to always start...because I have to learn to deal with my issues by myself.

I always thought that I was better than everybody else - it turns out that I'm not. I have a lot of catching up to do with the world. Someone told me last night that I have to start loving myself because for the longest time, I gave myself body and soul to one person. Now, that person is gone and I cannot go back to who I once was. I have to change. I have to stop wallowing in the past and drowning my sorrow with wine.

Life is different now, I thought I held all the cards but I didn't. I really have to purge myself of everything bad and start building myself from scratch. I'm terrified because I don't know where to start, but I'm sure I'll get there eventually. And when I do, please forgive me for what I may become.

hotpoetic @ 2009-10-28T16:35:00

2009-10-28T08:55:41Z

My 7 day drinking spree has come to an end today. I think I've maxed out the time I can spend with my friends and the depths of my wallet too. I'm afraid that once I'm left alone, in the house, with no friends to be with me physically; I'll revert back to the weak and pathetic heartbroken boy I was a few weeks back. I don't want to be that way ever again!

Calling all friends! Let's hang out! Let's party! Let's raise a big middle finger to life while wearing silly grins on our faces! God knows I need that right now.

hotpoetic @ 2009-09-16T00:54:00

2009-09-15T16:55:53Z

I've never felt this amount of murderous rage inside of me right now. I feel like I am about to explode sometime soon and unfortunately, I do not know where to direct my anger. To whoever is the fucking culprit behind this seemingly elaborate setup to rattle my romantic life: I will find you and I will make you regret that my name ever crossed your sight.

it's been a while

2009-01-15T05:32:39Z

It always feel strange when I find myself, during the quiet moments of any day, bitching in front of the computer screen - complaining about the current situation of my life and the unsolved equations that seem to bore themselves deep in my head. That's the way it is, I guess, being twenty something and directionless. The days and nights of staring blankly at nothing in particular or this supine existence become a ritual.

The way that ennui adopts a serpentine quality as it slithers into my system is an unfortunately regular event. I was immensely saddened when I discovered that I cannot live in the moment as I had in the early days of my youth. I always wonder where I am headed in my life, but my (too analytical, too pathetic) musings never get me anywhere. They always just leave me at the here and now (and most recently, at the "then’s".)

Burrowing into books, reading into literary illusions of how I wish my life is, is a temporary crutch that I am loathe to disown. I find the certainty of a story's ending enviable. But the ironic part is that whenever I finish a book, the finality crash lands into me and the impact is nothing short of heart breaking.

I don't feel like I am the protagonist of my life anymore. I have no idea how I am to wrest the reigns from something that I cannot even comprehend. Something that cannot even be named (it's not depression; it's something worse ... or maybe better?) Maybe the best course of action is to ride this storm out …though I have no idea how to navigate this vessel that is me.

hotpoetic @ 2008-10-31T01:09:00

2008-10-31T01:09:26Z

She said it's over and closed our book yesterday. I had about a hundred thousand things to say but nothing that would make her stay. Yesterday was bittersweet - it was one of the best dates we ever had and the saddest one because it was the end.

She knows all that i have to say. I understand you when you reason out you need growth. I understand that you need space for yourself. I understand that you have to search for that something you feel is out there for you. I understand that you want to find your life's focus again. But what i don't understand is why i have be to cut out of the picture. (Maybe i do understand a little, but my heart cannot take the ache.)

I was a big believer in the notion that love conquers all. Well, my belief has been dashed on the stones of separation and my naivety shattered like cheap glass. I still hold on to my belief in fate though, even if it is foolish of me to keep on believing that you'll be back someday.

It is rather stupid of me to extract promises from you to come back. But what can i do? I love you so much!

You were the turning point of my life. You showed me a new world full of smiles and happiness. It is weird ending on a good note. And weirder still ending at all. For days i have had this hole in my heart. Sleeping in as much as i can to keep the pain at bay. And yet, i do not beckon nor beg you to come back because you say you need this.

If only life were much simple as "i love you and you love me". I do not know what will happen now. The mere thought terrifies me to the bone. I never thought that love can destroy a man so.

To YOU:

-please finish your thesis so you can graduate and start your career

-please dont drive inebrieted

-please never forget that if ever you need company, im a text and 20 mins away

-always hold on to our memories, because i'll surely hold on too

-take care of yourself, you sometimes have self-destructive ways and i tried my best to protect you

-i love you more than life itself

If and when you feel complete, just give me a holler. And i'll run to wherever you are, sweep you off your feet again - and love you like there's no tomorrow.

Que siempre te amare....

R.I.P
Ceska and Jong
The Fairy and the Knight
June 3, 2004 - OCt 30, 2008

FUCK YOU IPOD MAKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm at my wit's end!

2008-06-19T15:38:04Z

This afternoon my stupid fucking ipod just went dead. (Not dead exactly, it keeps on displaying the "Connect to computer. Restore with iTunes." error message but the snobby iTunes doesn't wanna fix it.)I've been trying to resurrect it but all my efforts yield nothing. I guess I was sorta expecting this because I've heard that an ipod's "lifespan" is about 2 years only and I've had this 'pod since June '06. Im going nuts here! I've been scouring the net for remedies to this problem but all of 'em don't help. Stupid stupid apple!

I used my psp as an mp3 player for the day. I'm not accustomed to having a limited amount of music to listen to. *sigh* I guess I'll just have to get (save money first!) a new player.

Badtrip talaga. Puta! Ayoko na ng ipod! Stupid fucking thing.

wrote these two just now.

2008-06-05T13:25:20Z

-Wasteland-

These barren arms are nothing more than
dry husks waiting for rain
to seep through the cracks
and revel in a life long gone

There is nothing more in this
arid soil than a desire - and
if you would kindly traverse
the wasteland of my body
that desire would be sated

The desiccation of my self is a
slow and sorrowful process
much like the sun set
the sun set found in your eyes

Champion me and travel through me
Leave your footprints on the tips of my toes
to the strands of my onyx hair
and then,
when you have won,
rest yourself on my lips

That is where I want you most

-jong

(this one doesn't have a name yet..)

I am leaving this noose on
not because I am addicted to the pain
(though the suffocation sometimes
has it exquisiteness)
but because my neck is bare of adornments

I am leaving this thorn on my neck
not because I suffer from some outlandish illness
but because the itch has become a crutch

I am leaving this chair vacant
the space around it has cheapened my soul
Dangling salvation a few inches from
where my restrictions stand firm

I am leaving this flesh, this lonesom skin
and meander through night's cruel gaze
to be what we were:
youthful and invincible.

-jong

hotpoetic @ 2008-04-15T20:53:00

2008-04-15T12:51:32Z

Today, I was smoking outside the office building and I was listening to my "space out" song (Thrice's "RED SKY") and i saw a newspaper floating high above the towers of Ortigas. Strangely, something within me stirred. For a long time I have put a cork on my artistic side, but that moment made me feel so guilty for having took a time off from writing.

Now I know not to ridicule that guy who filmed a paper bag floating in the air. (From the movie "American Beauty")

Un lang naman. I'll try to write in my little book later. :)

rest in peace abby...:(

2008-03-23T15:36:28Z

A friend I met on the beach died today. Her name's Abby Parong and she died in a car accident this morning. We weren't really close friends, but for the past few years ive been to the beach she was there. We drank together a couple of times and i remember teasing her and my cousin (because he really liked her). She died this morning in a car accident. It just depresses me how life can be snuffed out in a snap. She was my smoking buddy at the beach and she even let me bum a few sticks from her. I was shocked to find out she died this morning! Anyhow, I T R I E D to write a poem about her but I guess my skill for wordsmithing is leaving me swiftly.

it was by the sea she was birthed
and she bridged the divide between
shore and saltwater

she braved the waters every morn
with only the wind as her cloak
and the ocean's embrace
her only need

the sea wept when she heard
her final gasp

rant

2008-03-12T13:08:15Z

It's puzzling the way life bores the hell out of me sometimes. I know some of you have felt this feeling at select moments of your lives but with me, it's kind of a recurring nightmare. I hate feeling like this because I know I am too young to be this way. This is how it happens, days crash into each other so seamlessly then you'll just wake up from whatever reverie you were in and just feel pure detachment from your current routine. Okay, not detachment, maybe more like oh i dunno BOREDOM.

Fuckin sad. That's what registers in my mind fifty percent of the time I look at myself in the mirror. AND to top it all off, I seem to have misplaced my vocabulary and talent of stringing up words! NO, I AM NOT BAITING FOR PRAISES (though they would certainly help much) I have tried picking up the pen to attempt to weave poetry again. But they dont graduate from being mere ATTEMPTS. Fucking fucking shit. FUCKING FUCKING FUCK!

I want to write good again, nowadays I feel like im only pretending to be a poet.

/rant.

hotpoetic @ 2008-03-10T09:03:00

2008-03-10T14:15:01Z

I want to be the battery charges up your smiles.

Talecraft-ing

2008-03-02T07:46:11Z

I know both of these stories aren't that good but writing them has been very fun for me. I dont write stories much but here ya go....

Cards Used:

Genre: Gothic
Archetypes: The Haunted Hero
The Coquette
Keywords: Body Painting, Wings, Blood, Curse, Old Photograph and Transformation

My name was J, or at least that was what the bitch called me. Before I gouged her eyes out and cut her tongue off. I was a slave to her desires back then and when I remember those times a chill always runs through me. A chill comprised of satisfaction and terror at what I had done. It began and ended a few years ago…

Jared was my birth name; I was quite a famous person in my little neighborhood since I was the best tattoo artist in the city. Everyday I had a multitude of customers. Most came in to get something tattooed on their skins. This ranged from the heavy metal rocker who chose skulls and creepy stuff, to young and naïve lovers imprinting each others’ names to their flesh. I treated them as nothing but customers, people whose money I needed I built no friendships or relationships with them. However, there was this one girl who came through my door – came into my life and obliterated it.

The bitch (who was really named Alana) came in my shop and instantly I was drawn to her. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, and believe me; I had seen quite a lot of pretty women saunter in my shop looking for the perfect tattoo or a shag. This Alana oozed sensuality: her body was every man’s wet dream. She had long luscious legs, a tight ass and full, voluptuous breasts. But it was her face that knocked the wind out of me. Her lips were a thick red, and whenever she bit her lips I was instantly aroused. Her eyes were like deep pools of iridescent beauty. When she locked those eyes on mine I was a deer caught in the headlights. And her hair! Her long flowing mane was black flame that ignited in me an inferno of passion.

That warm summer afternoon, Alana came through the door. She walked lithely and sensually towards me and sad “Hey there, I want a tattoo. Hmmm…A pair of wings on my back”. “Uhhh how about angel wings? This one, right here”, I stammered my reply as I pointed out a picture to her. “No, silly! I want reptilian wings, like those of a devil’s”, she smiled mischievously. She turned around, her back to me, and removed her shirt to expose an expanse of milky white flesh. My blood felt fiery. “Here,” she said, “got it?” She turned to me, without bothering to cover herself. My eyes almost popped out of their sockets. I couldn’t remove my gaze from her huge breasts.

That was when everything formed into a blur. We had sex that afternoon. No, sex is much too nice a word to describe what we did. We fucked. Fucked on the counter, fucked on the floor and fucked on the makeshift bed as I tattooed her back. The sight of her blood from my inking pen strangely compelled me to pump her harder. The bitch seemed immune to the pain and was howling in pure sexual glee. She left after that, licking her lips. She walked away; her eyes twinkled with the promise of a future hook-up. I was drained, completely and utterly drained

Soon after that, we had a number of kinky sessions in my shop. Every time she came to have sex while I finished up the enormous draconian wings I was painting on her back. I was transformed into a sex driven maniac. Yes, I loved her but on most days I existed only for our carnal meetings. When she wasn’t around I was restless. Like a drug addict waiting for his next fix. One night, I decided to pay her a visit at her apartment. I’d only been there once, but she didn’t invite me up. My desire was undeniable that night and so I went on to her place.

I came upon her apartment door, Room 68, and rang her doorbell. No one answered. I put my hands on the door knob, turned it, and was surprised to find that it wasn’t locked I stepped into her room. It was red.

The room seemed to be covered in a thin red mist. There were lit candles along the floor forming a big circle. I’ve seen stuff like this in movies and I swiftly shrugged off the creeping sensation of dread that was climbing up my back. I looked around and saw a table full of photographs. There was the one of us we took in my shop with Alana naked and straddling me. I was reminded of my lust when my member grew stiff in my pants.

I looked at the other pictures and my hair stood on end. She had scores of photographs almost the same as mine. Her, naked and having sex with another man. I wasn’t angry, in fact I was frightened. The photographs appeared to be taken from different times. There was one where she was giving fellatio to a Nazi and another black and white photo of her atop a man that surely was alive during the thirties. In all the pictures, she looked the same: young, beautiful and sinfully desirable. I was frozen with disbelief. I couldn’t comprehend how Alana had live through the ages.

“My poor little J...,” her voice shot at me, “now you know my sad secret.” I turned around and saw her standing behind me. My eyes ran up and down her alluring flesh and I momentarily forgot about my creepy discovery.

She told me that she was cursed hundreds of years ago for having an affair with some man. Unfortunately, that man was a witch’s husband. The witch killed her traitorous husband and cursed Alana with immortality – immortality and an unquenchable lust. She was in tears as she told me her tale. I asked her on how it could be stopped; my heart ached for her plight. “You have to kill me,” she answered in between sobs.

What she told me then made me nauseous. She said I had to enter her sexually while I methodically cut off her tongue, her eyes, her arms and finally her heart. She said that this was how the witch killed her husband. Alana was sure that this was the only way she might be killed and in doing so, halt her cursed existence.

“Please J, I’ve been suffering for so long! You’re the only man that loves me not only for my body…but for my heart as well. Please do this for me,” she begged me. And I did. As my dick slid inside her pussy one final time, I felt anger accompanying the pleasure that welled inside me; anger at what had been done to her and what she had done to me. I loved her. Loved her so much to kill her and end her torment.

I stayed on tope of her while I cut her apart. That time, it seemed so natural and easy…captivating even. It was sweet agony seeing the silver blade sever her ties to her mortal body. The last thing I did was to gouge her eyes out. I came then. And she was dead already. I burned her body parts as she instructed and left her dismembered body in the center of the flaming ring.

I retched at the floor, horrified at the monstrosity I committed. Since that day I referred to her as the bitch. The bitch who I loved, the bitch that inflicted upon me a curse of lust, and finally, the bitch that left me alive and alone.

oh, and it's still untitled! so, HALP!!!!!

Crafting a tale....

2008-03-02T06:53:56Z

For our lit finals, we have to write 2 stories. These stories are supposed to revolve around the cards we drew from a deck of story-telling cards called Talecraft. It's a pretty cool idea. I finished writing both my stories in a notebook last week, the only problem I have is that I don't have any titles for both my stories. HELP! :)

Cards Used
Genre: Mystery
Archetype: The Reclusive Genius
The Psychopath
Keywords: Moon, Cat, Cries in the Night, Twins, Ship and Tomb

The city seemed to be blanketed in perpetual night. The moon was obscenely full and gave off an eerie feeling. I stood there, with nothing but the black blanket and the golden moon to keep me company. I opened a pack of cigarettes and contemplated as I sucked down sweet cancer down my lungs.

What had happened? I replayed the events that transpired yesterday through my mind. I was riding a ship to this city, coming from a visit to my brother. I was looking forward to my moldy and dusty library at home. I love books; my house was thoroughly littered with my beloved books. People often called my house a library.

During my last night on the ship, I saw two beautiful girls – they were twins. I guessed that they were sixteen of age. They wore youthful smiles and an air of naivety that melded well with their cute dresses. I ventured a nod at them and they responded with twin giggles. I went to my room then to pack my things. Finally, the ship docked. I got my luggage and trudged on home. Out on the road, I came upon a black cat. It sat directly in front of me, looking at me intensely under a lamp post. It was a strange scene indeed. That was when things took a turn for the worse.

I heard a shrill cry pierce the silent night. I rushed to where I thought the shriek came from. This led me to a dark part of town, near the market, and I saw the body of one of the young girls sprawled on the ground. Her dress was torn open, exposing her nubile breasts. This pristine innocence was marred by the fact that blood ran down her smooth neck to the middle of her breasts. Her neck had been slit; the cut was clean and sinister. A shiver ran down my spine.

I heard the cry again. Looking to my right I saw the dead girl’s twin being carried away by a large man. I couldn’t guess who he was since his back was to me. What I could see was that he had long and unruly black hair and an equally black trench coat. I did not give chase; I was rooted on the spot with terror. Moments after, when I finally unearthed my puny self from cowardice’s grasp, I called the local authorities. I notified them of the incident then went home. I left the dead body, the beautiful corpse, on the ground.

I reached the door of my house, opened it and walked in. The comforting scent of my most cherished books washed over me and seemed to dispel the terror. Getting sleep proved to be quite troublesome as the face of the girl haunted my dreams. Then the phone rang. “Julian, could you swing by the station tomorrow? We need to question you about your report last night” It was the police; I told them I’d show up. The night melted into the next day.

I went to the station first thing in the morning and they asked me questions regarding the murder. I told them all I could but I could see from their faces that they did not truly care. The twins were not from here and nobody knew them. But I cared, even though I was not sure why. In that single instance when I made eye contact with them I felt a bond form between us. I decided that I would find the living twin even if it would cost me my life.
And now I’m here, smoking my last cigarette outside a tomb on the outskirts of town. The tomb had been there long before the city was built. My day-long research told me that the tomb was home to a cult a long time ago. This cult routinely sacrificed innocent girls to the dark god they worshipped. With the help of my books, I came upon a freakish coincidence: the cult used to hunt for two girls: twins. They would kill the other, slit her throat, and use the blood to paint the face of the other twin. They left the other twin alive for a full day so that her anguish would serve the twisted palate of their god. The girl would be strapped to a wall, naked, unfed and subject to their wicked tortures. They called this sick ritual “purging” and after which they would kill her by violent rape. This meant that I had mere hours to find her. I tossed my cigarette to the wind.

I fingered the old revolver I put in my coat’s pocket. The cold metal was a comfort to my twitchy and nervous hands. I was making sure it was there. I had never used the gun and shuddered at the thought of it not working. But I couldn’t turn back now. I went inside the dark entrance.

After what seemed like hours of checking rooms filled with obscure and evil looking relics and torture devices I sat down on an old creaky chair. I was tired and felt desperation bind itself to my bones. Suddenly, I heard a low moan and a deep hum. My feet led me to a candlelit room deep in the tomb. I peered through the doorway and saw the killer chanting in a deep, guttural voice. The girl was there on the wall, as I predicted. Tight ropes bound her wrists and ankles. She was completely naked.

The man was holding a long curved knife in the air. He was naked as well. His erect member was blight to my eyes and I averted my gaze from it. I knew then that he was to insert both his knife and his cock into the poor girl.

I sprang into action. What happened was quick: I shot him thrice through the back of his head. The man fell face-forward never to take breath again. The girl’s eyes were wide open and staring ate me. It was plain as day that she was frightened. “Girl, I’m going to free you now. Do not be scared.” My words seemed to calm her down a bit. Liberated from her ropes, she wept in my arms for a long time. I led her to my house, bathed, clothed and fed her.

As she slept in my bed, her was face was serene and beautiful to behold. Perhaps she dreamt of her twin. I sat there smoking and mourning their lost innocence.

hotpoetic @ 2008-02-28T22:24:00

2008-02-28T14:31:18Z

it is a frightening thing, growing up. i can feel my youth slipping away and to make it worse, i feel powerless to stop it. i do not want to grow old, i do not want to change but already i can feel it. feel everything around me change (or evolve, so to speak). i want to stay in the past. never did i imagine being jaded so early in my life. it's quite disugstingly cliche, but it's quite disgustingly true too! the monotony is k-i-l-l-i-n-g me.

it is a frightening thing, growing up. i lose track of all the things i've discarded from my life but i mourn the loss all the same. my circle has become smaller...and it's been uncomfortable for some time now. i need to be free of this constricting feeling. i need a breather.

when i came home an hour ago, i thought i felt numb. i wasn't. i was feeling very down. i wish that i could change my life with a snap of my fingers. being twenty one and drained is not good, by any standards.

and i do not know what comes after this...

or this

hotpoetic @ 2008-02-05T22:37:00

2008-02-05T14:39:18Z

tagged by iska_diwata
a. List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself
b. Tag seven people to do the same
c. Do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag "whoever wants to do it"

1. I often think in poetry and try to encapsulate in lines every thing i see.

2. I am the ultimate procrastinator and mentally chastise myself whenever i do ... but feel pervertedly proud whenever I come through just in the nick of time.

3. I often keep a front with people im not close to and play up my boisterous, loud/foul-mouthed, mutton-head self.

4. When in the shower, I sing. I sing songs that I make as the water rains on me. Sadly, I usually forget what I sang after I bathe.

5. I am truly disgusted at how I waste my potential.

6. I cheris the time I have alone, and think best when I'm travelling alone. I space out whenever I commute, that's one of the reasons why I dislike driving the car to school. I dont get to space out much.

7. I dwell on stuff too much.

im tagging: lanlan, karel, rowen and ping. OH! haha they dont use their LJs anymore. C R A P. so im tagging meetmytommygun ix_deadend taeneo siopaoisyummy p3a_11 tzadako bellydancer_18 gizmocorpse

hotpoetic @ 2007-12-08T02:44:00

2007-12-07T18:45:58Z

congratulations to my girlfriend ceska! she is a beauty queen! <3

hotpoetic @ 2007-11-21T21:59:00

2007-11-20T14:34:56Z

arrgh my stomach feels like a blast furnace! thats what i get for guzzling down alcohol on an empty stomach. however, putting this pain out of the equation, i had a perfect day today. met ceska at midtown and we hunted around the mall. we watched superbad, which was the typical teen flick (virignal high school boys questing for poon!!!!) but i found it very funny. we felt an encroaching and undeniable desire for some booze so, long story short, we went to dencio's and proceeded to knock back a few beers.

and here we are, 3 hours later and my stomach is hell on earth. :)