Sunday, November 27, 2011

Beauty and Madness


What kind of loser writes on flimsy napkins while deafening music booms on and on, pacing my systoles and diastoles? Who does not give in to alcohol but succumbs to the gauze of nicotine? Every breath is a rebellion against established principles. Tiny embers light the night, cairns of dying stars immolating most resolve and conviction. My mute screams of protest fall back in on themselves as I reach new highs void of feeling. Feather-light caresses fail to penetrate my shell as I yearn for another in a place bridged by distance and warped by the unyielding bass of uncertainty...and perhaps mutual fear and exasperation.

Need shared worlds be sundered? What am I to do when my heart beats for another out of its own sentient and stubborn and sincere volition? I cannot spurn it away, for flesh and blood, unfeeling, kiss death in its absence. What is sobriety to do when it is doubted, when all of me is laid bare and yet I am bid to be clothed, and accused, wrongly, of laying waste to dreams? What is chance when it is taken away before it is given? What is strength when little fears cripple it so easily?

Stares of malign passions home in, rebuked by the pauper-prince's eyes that seek the one averted gaze from the familiar face of someone dear miles away. 

What kind of fool am I? One whose folly, embraced whole, cannot be helped. One whose breath was taken away even before paths crossed; one whose breath was taken away when paths and lives finally did cross; one whose breaths were taken away again and again and again, sweeter and sweeter with each refrain; one whose puny rhymes fail and whose tropes barely commit justice to the wretched mad impetus that spur it so; one who hopes and whose hopes unleash kaleidoscope upon kaleidoscope of butterflies which nuzzle and twist and tug, unyielding, at the very fiber of my being; one hopelessly imprisoned by moments held in stasis in the trove of memory, each relived perpetually, urging me to yearn for continuity, for more.

I am a fool, a willing victim of fate, who fell, beyond choice, beyond reason, and beyond salvation, utterly and wholly and madly with a friend. Crucify me if you must, but unfeeling repentance for this feeling that stole over me with utter abandon shall not spring from my lips. This is no sin. Let he who has never loved, in any way or form, cast the first stone.

Do not isolate me, please.

3 comments:

  1. in lab si kuya spiral..ayeee!!

    indiboi:D

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  2. I think it's so cute how all this boils down to I had a sucky time at the club because all I could think of was you. :)

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  3. hello, indiboi. now, i'm quite curious as to who you are...

    Nyl naman. I wouldn't have gone to the club in the first place if other infinitely better plans didn't go down the drain. Nako ang-OA ko talaga. Pero I was really, really, really, really frustrated that night. I dragged straight friends with me to the club, but I went there to drown myself in the noise - I do that to clear my mind. But the geek in me who brings a sign pen everywhere saw several napkins on our table and started writing on them. This is the barely edited end-product. Grabe, that was my first time to hit what they call the nicotine-high or something to that effect, that really contributed to the me-against-the-world tone of this post. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

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