Ako na ang titira.
Sumisipat na para sa susunod na bola.
Sa isang bilyaran malapit sa eskwela,
kasama ang mga barkada.
At may mga nag-iinuman sa kabilang mesa.
Tatlo, o apat ata sila,
'di ko na gaano maalala.
Katahimikan.
Focus...
"PUTANG INA MAHAL KO SIYA!!!",
sigaw ng isa.
Lahat ay nabigla.
Nadama ang pighati sa hiyaw niya.
Hala! Si kuya nabaliw na!
Humihikbi pa?!
Tinawanan ko lang noon si kuya.
Pero ngayon,
parang 'di naman pala nakakatawa...
WAITER!! ISANG BUCKET PA!!!
For once I am writing
not out of sadness,
out of depression,
of misery.
At last I awoke from the nightmare that was,
the regret,
the pain,
confusion, anguish,
gone with it.
Indeed I bid my time,
and time it was that I needed.
My thanks to you,
living and no-.
For the living,
the attention,
advice (solicited or not),
patience.
Or the lack thereof.
There's only few, so you'd know who you are.
For the non-living,
the numbness,
diversion, albeit temporary,
it all helped.
I am writing to celebrate life...
or whatever this is that I have is called.
A welcome change.
Indeed there has been a lot,
and yet, nothing much.
So here I am, writing.
Another chapter has closed.
Abrupt or not,
closed, nonetheless.
Ready for a new one,
as the moon begins to settle.
"Alas, the Poet found an unlikely cure from the Scorpion,
the same one whom he repeatedly stepped on.
And yet it is the that same Scorpion
whose sting removed the spreading poison,"
Everything has sort of calmed recently.
Like all is back in its proper place.
Nothing seems to have changed, just at it was months ago.
But then I knew all along...
Everything has changed, and nothing will ever be the same again.
The space you once owned is now just a big hole in my chest.
And deep down...
I am still in turmoil.
Habang nakatingin sa kawalan,
naglalakad ng walang patutunguhan,
umaasa sa isang wala namang kasiguruhan.
At sa kabila ng lahat...
Nakakaramdam ka pa rin ng kahit kakarampot na kaligayahan,
at sangrekwang kalungkutan,
habang siya'y nasisilayan sa di kalayuan.
Ang tawag sa iyo?
Masukista, hijo.
It all started one winter.
On my way home,
inside a public vehicle.
Words started to flow,
humming songs of wonder.
A chapter that came to an abrupt end.
Bitter, crying tears of sorrow,
turning into the coldest summer ever.
The Fool made a joke out of the Clown,
turning its smile upside-down.
Thus the Poet couldn't keep the words from coming out,
searching for ways to mend a broken heart.
He needs to lay low.
For how long?
He doesn't even know.
What he knows for sure,
he is in deep pain.
And yet, with the need
to hide his tears
in the summer rain.
Ako na ang titira.
