1. I cover the image in the mirror With the palm of my hand; And notice a cut on my finger That I never knew I had. I laughed and then I cried, Then crumbled to the floor. Suddenly aware of my problem,  Like I never was before.How did this happen to me?
Strangers.

    I cover the image in the mirror
    With the palm of my hand;
    And notice a cut on my finger
    That I never knew I had.

    I laughed and then I cried,
    Then crumbled to the floor.
    Suddenly aware of my problem,
    Like I never was before.

    How did this happen to me?

    Strangers.

    photo

    4 notes
  2. - When I was young, I thought life would teach me how to live, and suicide, how to die. I don’t really listen to what people tell me. I forget things I don’t like, and I look down dead- end streets. The end of a relationship leaves me with a sad aftertaste, the same as the end of a novel or an ice cream. But I am not afraid of what comes at the end of life.
- I am slow to realize when someone mistreats me, it is always so surprising: evil is somehow unreal, don’t you think? When I sit with bare legs on vinyl, my skin doesn’t slide, it squeaks, and I find it funny, though the sweat in between my calves makes a different horrid noise. I silenced myself, and just cry for a moment.

I archive.I joke about death.I do not love myself but I do not hate myself.

- To take pictures at random places goes against my nature, but since I like doing things that go against my nature, I have had to make up alibis. I would rather be bored alone than with someone else. I roam empty places and eat in deserted restaurants. I do not say “A is better than B” but “I prefer A to B.” I never stop comparing, much as how I discriminate myself from the society.
- When I am leaving for work, the best part is not going the busy streets or getting home, but the jeepney rides in between: “You’re still traveling, but not really.”
- I sing carelessly, so I prefer singing in my mind. Though, I had an idea for a Dream Museum, which will gratify the unsung talents of people like me. Also, I cannot sleep beside someone who moves around, snores, breathes heavily, or steals the covers. I can sleep with my arms around someone who doesn’t move.
- I have attempted suicide once, but I’ve been tempted four times to attempt it. I am faithless. I have read less of the Bible than of Marcel Proust. My mum makes me laugh more than Andy Warhol. William Dietz depresses me less than Bret Easton Ellis. And I don’t see the connection between Taylor Swift and the normal. When I make lists of names, I dread the ones I forget.
- From certain angles, I can find myself handsome. I find myself ugly more often than handsome. I like my voice after a night out or when I have colds. I am unacquainted with hunger. I was never in the army. I have never pulled neither a fork nor a knife on anyone. I have never used Marijuana. I have fired a pellet toy gun. I have shot my sister twice with a pellet toy guy. I have a red- painted concrete room with books written by Roland Smith and Claire Davis rested on muted shelves. And I tempt random people view me while I masturbate.
- Although I am self-employed, I observe the weekend. I have never kissed a lover in front of my parents, or have I? I do not have a weekend place because I do not like to open and then shut a whole lot of shutters over the course of two days. I have not hugged a male friend tight. I have kissed a boy. Boys, if you may ask.

    - When I was young, I thought life would teach me how to live, and suicide, how to die. I don’t really listen to what people tell me. I forget things I don’t like, and I look down dead- end streets. The end of a relationship leaves me with a sad aftertaste, the same as the end of a novel or an ice cream. But I am not afraid of what comes at the end of life.

    - I am slow to realize when someone mistreats me, it is always so surprising: evil is somehow unreal, don’t you think? When I sit with bare legs on vinyl, my skin doesn’t slide, it squeaks, and I find it funny, though the sweat in between my calves makes a different horrid noise. I silenced myself, and just cry for a moment.

    I archive.
    I joke about death.
    I do not love myself but I do not hate myself.

    - To take pictures at random places goes against my nature, but since I like doing things that go against my nature, I have had to make up alibis. I would rather be bored alone than with someone else. I roam empty places and eat in deserted restaurants. I do not say “A is better than B” but “I prefer A to B.” I never stop comparing, much as how I discriminate myself from the society.

    - When I am leaving for work, the best part is not going the busy streets or getting home, but the jeepney rides in between: “You’re still traveling, but not really.”

    - I sing carelessly, so I prefer singing in my mind. Though, I had an idea for a Dream Museum, which will gratify the unsung talents of people like me. Also, I cannot sleep beside someone who moves around, snores, breathes heavily, or steals the covers. I can sleep with my arms around someone who doesn’t move.

    - I have attempted suicide once, but I’ve been tempted four times to attempt it. I am faithless. I have read less of the Bible than of Marcel Proust. My mum makes me laugh more than Andy Warhol. William Dietz depresses me less than Bret Easton Ellis. And I don’t see the connection between Taylor Swift and the normal. When I make lists of names, I dread the ones I forget.

    - From certain angles, I can find myself handsome. I find myself ugly more often than handsome. I like my voice after a night out or when I have colds. I am unacquainted with hunger. I was never in the army. I have never pulled neither a fork nor a knife on anyone. I have never used Marijuana. I have fired a pellet toy gun. I have shot my sister twice with a pellet toy guy. I have a red- painted concrete room with books written by Roland Smith and Claire Davis rested on muted shelves. And I tempt random people view me while I masturbate.

    - Although I am self-employed, I observe the weekend. I have never kissed a lover in front of my parents, or have I? I do not have a weekend place because I do not like to open and then shut a whole lot of shutters over the course of two days. I have not hugged a male friend tight. I have kissed a boy. Boys, if you may ask.

    photo

    6 notes
  3. six feet under

    There’s afterlife; no after death.

    I did not ask if you loved me back.
    Because I may already be behind.

    And now, I’m buried down deep.

    photo

    7 notes
  4. I don’t think I’m alone in this.
    The more I get to know other people,
    the more I realize it’s kind of everyone’s flaw.

    Staying exactly the same for as long as possible;
    standing perfectly still…it feels better somehow.

    And if you are suffering, at least the pain is familiar.
    Because if you took that leap of faith, went outside the box, did something unexpected;
    who knows what other pain might be out there.

    Chances are it could be even worse.

    So you maintain the status quo.
    Choose the road already traveled and it doesn’t seem that bad. 
    Not as far as flaws go.

    You’re not a drug addict; you’re not killing anyone…
    except maybe yourself a little.

    photo

    7 notes
  5. Model: Leyden Joy Llanillo

    Model: Leyden Joy Llanillo

    photo

    1 note