Jai. 20. ISFJ.
BA Communications Graduate. Working Boy. Baguio City. PH.

ASK | POETRY | PROSE | LIFE | ART | TAGS | ARCHIVE

Every once in a while, someone comes along and challenges everything you once believed in, and then you realize that maybe it’s time to believe in something new.

“Maybe we cut ourselves
to remind us that
our pain is real,
that we aren’t delusional,
we aren’t making things up
as people would say.
This isn’t for the whole world
to see, it’s only for us
Or in the event that it is,
maybe it’s a cry for help.
Maybe it will show them
that wounds don’t heal
overnight. that wounds
would go away just by telling
ourselves to not think about it,
to try to be happy.
Has a wound ever closed up
just because you tell it to?
maybe we want our physical scars
because we know
they’ll go away in time,
unlike the scars in our hearts
which never say goodbye.”

under the blade #2 (by Jai R,)

“We start cutting ourselves
because we want
a different kind of pain.
We’re so sick and so tired
of the same hurt
in our hearts,
that maybe physical pain
will break the streak,
and it does, but only
for a short while,
so we do it over and over.
Even if we know that
it doesn’t fix anything,
a distraction is better
than nothing.”

Under the blade (by Jai R.)

my heart can only take so much disappointment. stop it, life. please. stop.

“It’s not your job to fix me.
I never asked you to
patch up my holes
or fill up my empty spaces,
but the least you could do
is to not add any more
perforations to my
moon cratered heart,
but you strike me like
a meteor shower
and leave me more wrecked
than I already am.
How am I supposed to heal
when the wounds
just keep overlapping?”

To all my triggers (by Jai R.)

Stayed up late to draw this because goddammit I miss sleeping with next to you.

“Put on your earphones,
drown out the sound,
close your eyes,
you’re safer now.
flush out the hurtful words,
the guns in your head,
deafen youself
so you won’t hear
another word of hatred.”

– Earphones (by Jai R.)

Everything I do is to make you proud, but I always end up being a disappointment to you.

“My back flat on the bed,
feet pointed upward,
hands on my chest,
I fall asleep the way
corpses lie in coffins.
As the sky goes to rest,
so do my troubles,
I bury them six inches
under my pillow
and say my prayers,
and when the sun
rises again tomorrow,
I awake in fetal position
feeling born again,
thinking maybe today
brings a life worth living.”

Starting over again (by Jai R.)

“The taste of cigarettes
and the taste of liquor
blends perfectly,
not in one mouth
but two.
We’ll build sin city
on our tongues,
branching out,
creating an empire
from my neck
to your chest
down my spine
and onto your laps,
heave and hoe,
we’ll use our hands,
this empire will stand,
but only for a moment,
and then we crumble
to dust.”

Sin City (by Jai R.)

When shit happens

clean up,

pull up your pants,

and flush the toilet.

“Within my mouth
floats a message
in a bottle,
uncork it and find
the letters I hide,
paragraphs written,
stories engraved
on the cell wall
surface of my teeth,
flip through the pages
twisted and tied
onto my tongue,
I won’t speak a word,
I won’t make a sound,
so read my lips,
cigarette burnt
and scarred,
listen to what
I don’t say
when you kiss me.”

– Read my lips (by Jai R.)