The 3rd

Posted: August 27, 2019 in Uncategorized

1- My rebelliousness cowered at the sound of bullets and teargas.

2- I stood behind my parents words and their fear of losing me in the mess.

3- Collapsing needs one to be standing.. but I was already lying down when my mother called to tell me about the news she was watching on TV.

4- I used the dirty matress in the hospital where I work as shelter.. it didn’t shelter anything.

5- Detachment.. was what I thought I’d be doing while clinching my phone so hard reading about who’s missing and who’s murdered.

6- I called Gaki’s phone so many times hoping he’d answer.

7- I called Mageed’s phone so many times and everytime it was off.

8- If transforming into a martyr.. was what’s needed for this fucking revolution to win then take me instead. Bring back everyone who was there and take me.. I can’t bear this burdening existence with its air clogged at the throat with so many souls ascending.. no wonder suffocation was the only thing I managed to do with my lungs that day.

9- What’s good of chanting when everyone who’d chant with you is dead? What’s good of chanting if the ones listening are still deaf, still delaying their empathy or sympathy to people lost. To people not breathing anymore To people.. drenched in mud and blood and courage, courage I could ┬ánever carry in my heart.

10- When emotional pain starts numbing, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt anymore. It means I’m used to keep scratching where it hurts till it bleeds again then maybe.. I’ll get a glimpse of the pain my friends felt when they were there. Where I wasn’t, While lying down in the comfort of my bed cursing this survival I didn’t ask for.

11- The purpose of all this was to live. Not to end up dead. Not to end up jaree7. Not to end up missing or losing what’s left of your sanity or hope or soul or will to live.

12- Invulnerability is a fucking previlidge.

13- Existing.. at this very moment is so severe Knowing.. that last night.. Just last night.. I was there..belonging.. and it rained and we laughed and sang and held hands and chanted against the fucking authority that was busy planing our death.

14- is still burning.

“Dear god, how broke

do you have to be

to not buy people time?”*

15- I stopped praying.


*Andrea Gibson – Orlando



Posted: May 6, 2019 in Uncategorized



Around this time last year, I tried killing myself by injecting myself with adrenaline. Purpose was: the effect of adrenaline would stop my heart by causing it atrial fibrillation then arrhythmia. One year has passed. I haven’t attempted suicide again ever since. But the thought never leaves my mind.

I was blessed to find myself in love again after so many years of false crushes and one sided love. I found someone who gave me comfort and warmth like never before. But unfortunately, it didn’t last. And I lost all kinds of communication with that someone. Someone I still miss every day, still wish to find myself in their arms one last time.

I’ve had so many dreams and ambitions. The plan was by this time, I’ll be out of the country. Living on my own, supporting myself and helping support my family. Working toward my future. Becoming my whole self freely and successfully. But here I am. Carrying whats left of these dreams in my hand and feeling them slipping through my fingers slowly and vanishing.

I can tell I’m in a bad place. Mentally and emotionally. I can tell that complaining about it won’t change a thing. I’m aware that if it’s not me, then who will move and get up and woman up and do something about it? But I have given up. To me now; life and everything about it is tasteless. I don’t know where to go from here.

What happens to someone who is lost in the desert and got tired of all the walking and sun and thirst?

What was on the minds of the musicians playing music while the Titanic was drowning?


Posted: July 7, 2018 in Uncategorized

I need my friends.

I wanna tell them that I’m struggling.. but they’re all also struggling.

Struggling with real shit. Real life shit. And I’m just struggling with myself. My problem is as small as I am. It probably doesn’t worth mentioning.

Maybe I’m not okay.. or maybe I’m just riding the wave.. you know, depression and anxiety are the new trend.

Maybe I’m totally fine but I cling to believing that I’m not okay.

Maybe I’m just bored and lonely, and attention seeking seems to be the right thing to do in such case.

I don’t even know what I’d answer if they ask me “what’s wrong?”

I don’t wanna be a burden, and I want to be strong.

But I also wanna tell them that I’ve done things. And I don’t know why I’ve done them. And I don’t wanna be there again but it gets really dark. And I wanna go to a place where it wouldn’t matter if its dark or lit.

But it’s not like I’m depressed.

Maybe I just need to be held.

To not feel incredibly alone in this mess.

But what mess?

Maybe this is a cry for help (?)

Maybe I just need to be held.

Maybe I just need my friends.



Posted: July 5, 2018 in Uncategorized

I need to let out.
I need to vent.
I need to explode with everything inside me.
There is rubble behind my heart.. that I need to evacuate.

There’s poetry here.
And I’ve been waiting on inspiration.
But inspiration never came…
And the words I left behind me, the ones dying to tell the truth of this feeling I’ve been harboring all these years.. the story of the scars that still itch to heal.. the memories I cluttered on the side of my brain and the migraine that knows how to choke my temporal vein, have I died? Have I died yet? And if I did, was it in vain?

Life goes on. Life.. goes on but I’m standing here still.
The war is over but the fight remains still..
The mourning is not over the grief.. constantly rain and the sound of thunder is how my heart beats and I need; I need peace.
I need quiet.
I need the enemy in me to stop patronizing my bones and interrupting my prayers with laughters and screams of “They shall not be answered! They are not to be answered!”
God must be bored of me and if God turns his back then.. the loneliness is official write that on my grave.
Write that, when you are sure that death.. did not forget about me.. that life.. didnt give up on me.. that my guardian angel.. didnt find a new job to make a living after my hopelessness.. and laziness kicked her away.
Here. Here my soul scattered and spilled everywhere.. I’m lacking living. I’m vitally impaired. I’m limping in my dreams after I been flying in them.. tell me.. tell me if there is a cure when one self doesn’t want to belong to itself tell me.. how when Im weary of all the men catcalling my flesh and reaching.. for my body like its a property.. doesn’t anger me no more but only makes me qsick.. so sick that I cannot move a muscle or snap a knuckle on a man’s face I promised.. I promised myself to be stronger than this but the smoke.. the smoke is too thick and my lungs are not pink and my lungs aren’t fit and my lungs are breathless and my lungs are tired and lungs.. my lungs.. my feet are heavy.. my back hardly straight.. the darkness.. is covering the sky and the moon is asleep tonight.. I am alone here in all this emptiness.. the doors… the doors are all trap and I need an exit.
I need an escape.
To escape.
This existence.
This storm of being.
This me.. I am is too damn much.

And there is poetry here.
I’m full of it.
And its painful.
And its heavy.
And I wrote it.
I am writing it.
But it’s still here. And the weight from all what I feel.. what I’ve been through and what I fear is setteled on my shoulders… I am the atlas of everything I don’t want to bear.
How am I to drop all this and escape.. I want to escape.
My arms wants to hold my lover, a lover who isn’t mine to begin with
My ribs wanna grow wings.
My breath wants to become wind.
My liver wanna stop cleaning my blood
My blood wants to be a river
My mind wants peace and quiet.
Needs peace and quiet.
And my body needs a home.
A home outside of me.

The Ending

Posted: July 4, 2018 in Uncategorized

The moon is hiding behind clouds.
Just like how I hide my feelings behind my expressionless face.
Even if I cry, I cry from a place of strength.
I hate weakness.
I hate vulnerability.
But Im right here between your arms that chose to embrace someone else.

I abuse myself.
All for the sake of not feeling anything.
Feelings are too much I feel like they’re eating my heart.
And I miss you.
And cigarettes help me to push down all the breathlessness I feel whenever you strut across my memory.

Maybe I’m depressed.
I am yet to hear from my therapist.
I’ve been avoiding facing her.
She is a stranger that I do not want to feel naked in front of.
It fits me more to be naked before you.
But you dont seem to care.
And I wish my heart and lungs would fade and numbness would replace them.
I dont want to feel.
I dont want to feel.
I dont want my hunger fed but rather it stops visiting my guts.
I’m a mess.
I’m a mess.
If I had a blade in my hand right now I would’ve taken my own life.
I would’ve ended all this.
But I have nothing but myself.
And poison in my veins.
I wanna be okay.
I wanna say I’m fine and mean it and believe it.
Not saying it as a robotic response to “how are you?”.

But I’m a mess I’ve failed to clean.
I’m water spilled.
I’m a soul watsed.
I’m the remaining mud that God didn’t know what to do with.
Or a wandering sperm that accidently found its way to an ovum and surprise! Another child. A girl that would grow into a broken woman that would still stand firm inspite of her scattered flesh and missing bones.
I’m a warrior that death swore to spare. So all these battles will be fought till the end.
I wonder how the end would look like.
Will I die proud? Or die from over exhausion?
And I want you to be there.
To hold my body as it lets go of the last bit a life remaining of it.
Like how Cleopatra kissed that last drop of soul remaining in her lover.
I want you to be there.
To witness the wounds and the blood and the sacrifices I made subconsciously.
Hold me.
So in my death -unlike my life- I wont be alone, without you, missing you, lover.


Posted: July 1, 2018 in Uncategorized

I collected all the words I’ve ever wished to tell you. Gathered them in my mouth and whispered them to stars. And stars would race between them to bring these words to where you are.
If only I could tell where you are.

God already heard all of my prayers, all are prayers for you to be close to me.
But would he answer?
Would you think of me?

Dazzled I am and amazed by everything you say or do. I would worship your kisses if pure faith ever found its way to my heart.
I know love by the ways my heart tingles at the mention of your name.
And I know I would never run out of that love as long as your breath remains.

There’s love here that only speaks of your name.
There’s warmth, that only longs for you.
I have many cigarettes that dream of burning between your lips, or perhapse, thats just me.

And God already knows all of prayers, they are prayers for you to hold me.

I lit a candle, I whispered your name, and prayed that you’d be comforted, centent and safe.
A star fell, crying out your name as it does, in hopes that wherever you are, you’d hear her and know it’s me whose calling across skies.

But do you ever think of me?
Does my name makes a song at the back of your memories the way yours does to me?

God has already heard all of my prayers.
But would he answer?
Would you answer?
Could you think of me?


Posted: June 20, 2018 in Uncategorized

Sometimes I feel like every bone in my body would snap into a wing. 206 wings all flapping at once, flying me to the farthest star where poems make wishes and jump to the belly of the sky.
Sometimes I wonder what would be of my soul if it was not trapped in this body of mine. How did it learn to tame herself in order to fit in this 5ft height, soft skin and a mouth that doesn’t say much, if anything at all?

I think whenever I crave being in the arms of a lover, is when my soul is revolting against me attempting to leave this world. For it is made of revolution and a fascination for the night sky.
I think my soul would’ve been a sky.

The woman I am today is restless and tired. With a chest heaving with longing and a desire that burns bright at the core. I’m afraid that I will run out of days before I can breath all of this out.

The wind blows against my naked soul and I almost fly.
I don’t belong. I don’t belong. I don’t belong anywhere. But I want to find home.