Friday, July 30, 2010

things inside my pocket

even the thought of clearing my throat was not an option. it was already too late when i have realized that my own courage already abandoned me inside that cold ruin. paralyzed and confused.

the only things left were two familiar objects i always kept inside my pocket and another one, which i always deny bringing.

it was not the first time i have been with this ghost. but regardless of how much i shield myself against it, my body still reacts indifferently. it drops down 'til i chill. my heart turns cold like a snail, but my face burns as if its melting all the coming intuitions.

then i opened my eyes wide and bravely watched as the shadows danced and swept time and everything away. it is just fascinating how it weaved empty memories. honestly, i never really thought that i would still live up to that day to witness and be mesmerized by it. something not all are privileged to see, for they chose not to see it.

though the thoughts of freezing vodka mingling on the tip of tongues was tempting, something inside my pocket just pulled me back. the same moment when i have realized that a cold sheet of pure impulsiveness almost devoured me. thus, with a weak but definite voice, i pulled myself together and marched away. dressing myself with a distinct pallet of two entirely different colors of victory and loneliness.

all i could hear then was the last drops of a drying rain pour, and a deafening silence behind the door in front of me.

for a moment, i felt scared of what i was to embrace. but the urge of not looking back was stronger than the shackles that kept and defined me for the longest time.

so this time, i promised myself that there will no longer be any room for regrets.

13 comments:

davidrockens said...

how old are you na nga?

ahahahaha! ohh i love pouring salt in open wounds

wanderingcommuter said...

sorry. that is not about that. che! :P

pumupurol ka na, must be the age. how oldER are you again? nyahahahaha!

love you, babe! love-hate? hahaha

Kane said...

Ewik naman, ang cryptic! Parang gusto mo walang makaintindi! =)

Trip said...

r u starting to redefine urself? :)

parteeboi said...

drugs ba toh? hehehe... cryptic nga... :)

canonista said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
canonista said...

Because I am so bad at drawing things and I always wanted to do a portrait of poetry...

I imagine a portrait, a man photographed with only half his body in the frame, the man is looking down and his face is almost unrecognizable because of the angle, wearing a white t-shirt inside a red and black checkered shirt with his right hand clenched inside in his pocket, the man is wearing a dark blue denim pants and a classic brown leather belt, there is a table on his side with bottles of different colors and empty glasses; the background is a cluttered room in blur and a big opened door with a streaming light at the other side.

That is how I picture your literary entry.

odin hood said...

pa-shy lol

Jake said...

Come again? LOL

PILYO said...

i have two familiar objects inside my pocket:

lube and condom. hahahaha.

Boying Opaw said...

we may or we may not choose to "change". either way, we never become entirely empty.

para kunyari may connect ang sinabi ko. hahahahaha.

uy, galing akong makati kahapon ah.

♥N said...

That's the best things about pockets, you can carry in it whatever you want, whether it's something concrete, or things that are intangible, like carrying around your hopes and dreams, or courage or mental baggage. They are your pockets, and you get to decide what you want to carry around with you.

Cio said...

i'll jump out of your pocket =P