The sun is smiling, teasing even. His heat tickles the hair of my skin, making these little strands giggle along the still playing breeze of that early morning. The sun is smiling; he is teasing me. I look at him, confident. I try to show that I am fine, that I feel better. I enjoy my usual leisure of walking along that path where we used to walk together, that path with trees on the sides, like trumpeters welcoming the royalties. And as I tread this path, the sun smiles, teasing me. His heat becomes strong all of a sudden. No, it isn’t becoming strong. My skin is becoming thinner. The confidence that I wore before going out is starting to tarnish. The face that I wore is losing its glory. Guilt is eating my shield like rust to iron. The guilt from last night is stirring, and the sun knows everything. He is smiling at me, teasing me even.
I need to be alive from the dead scene of my life. Dead scene where my only love is Mary Jane, she’s not a woman but a plant. Harvesting the plant that will make me feel loved and alive, the moment I am waiting is finally here. Been growing, culturing and nurturing her since I plant her beneath. It’s a pleasure to make her seed and to smoke her, weeds. Now I am holding my one and only Mary Jane, the aroma of her within soothes my nostrils. Her girth outwit my palm as I feel her crunch. My left hand is now searching for Mary Jane’s blanket; rolling paper. Seems like she can’t take to be naked and wholesome this whole minute, wait for your blanket my love. I wrap Mary Jane with her blanket to lessen the humidity. Mary Jane’s hold to the rolling paper is firm and strong, ready to roll on. I am fitting it right for my love not to slip up. She’s dressed and in bloom no more. With a second thought, I think Mary Jane is in need to be heated up. There goes the lighter on my other hand. Mary Jane hold tight. My lover’s fire will caress you through your rolling position. As I light Mary Jane, all I know is I am in love. Burning, hitting, inhaling and doping Mary Jane is how this sensual love interconnect us. I let the light spark; Mary Jane burn through and smoke. More than a woman.
Mary Jane is still peeking through the corners of the ceiling, or through the sound of low chants or marching of the ants and the wind that are passing me by. Yes, Mary Jane. She who hugs me in my emptiness. She who creates illusions of the world I really want to be in - not in this rotting bull shit. She who brings me back to her, to that woman in my old memory. She who brings me back to the time when that woman and I were writing our own history, that we thought we could finish until the end of times, or the end of stars, or the end of the whistling kettles echoing inside my ear. I am so high, fuck this shit. It is really funny, actually, for that woman brings me Mary Jane, and on the other hand, Mary Jane brings me that woman. Fucking shit.
She needed space when I have already given her my world, it was 2011 and it was the first time my heart turned to pieces. I recall how my lips quivered and how my days went just thinking of her without me. I can still feel all the pain come over me as my heart was destroyed. I had truly loved her and it ended. It was so long ago. Ages ago really, I didn’t speak to her much except when I told her to give me the pieces of my heart telling her that someone might sculpt them again. There were no hard feelings, no grudges, no remorse. For years I stopped believing in love. Today is a different story. Today I have you. You brought it back. You made me fall in love with love again.
I am here on the roof trying to fathom the constellation of the stars as I try to recall the contour of your face as I trace my fingers on molding it as the first time I felt your warm skin. You are still the same person that I crave for when I wake up in the morning, with a meal you prepared and giving me the first experience of having a breakfast in bed. You are still the same person that would be the first to pop out in the mind in the midst of choking on my meal — this is for they say that a person is thinking of you if you choke while eating. You are still the same person that I would like to color my lips how reddish it was before when we’re still together.
I still smile inside myself when I see you beside me. I feel the warmth spread from the center of my chest outwards; treading slowly towards my limbs. I feel that tingle run—a marathon over my skin, leaving me trembling as I see you seducing me like a real geisha.
I miss you, I miss the taste of your saliva and how you intensely pull my hair when you need to gasp for air. I miss you by my side; brushing against you unintentionally, catching a whiff of your curls, and that stare from you, wishing to never last.
I remember about all the shits that passed through my life. How everything has come so fast. First, there was this elementary crush, then my first girlfriend in high school, then a college lover, and now, I think that you are the one. I don’t know, actually. I am getting dizzy now, and I think we should take a rest. It had been a busy day, and our young souls are now weary. Weary of everything. Weary of losing each other. And for once again, as heaven permits it, we are here together. Together, and I hope that it is for forever.
And it’s 1:16 in the morning, wait, is it? It’s 1:27 on my wristwatch but it says 1:16 here on the computer clock. Which one should I believe? Eh. Doesn’t matter. I’m still minutes away from hell and by hell I mean my job. Another 8 hours of nonstop talking, pacifying upset and frustrated customers and trying to sell them something. To be honest, I’m getting tired of what I’m doing. I guess the only reason that is making me endure all of this shit is my commitment. I promised myself the last time that I would stay on my job for at least a year. I’m not even halfway there. I guess life is like this, whenever you want to give up and just sleep you still do your best to wake up to the annoying sound of your alarm clock and do the rest— live life— even though it sucks.
I am sitting outside our gate, quite as it is. The midnight breeze gives me different kind of chills, like a whisper that slowly changing my mood, hunger inside me that turns me into some kind of monster waiting for someone that will serve as my dinner. My head is full of drama from my daylight journey and by now I just need to ease all this pain. I am about to head back inside our house when I heard a voice. It is coming from a jeepney parked near our gate; someone is sitting in the front car porch. I decided to see who is it, slowly walking and trying to decipher the face from the dark image I can only see.
Ronnel, the young lad who lives in front of our house. A fifteen year old boy whose face is too calm for his manly body. I will admit that he is one of my crush in our street but due to safety precaution, I had to hide before some of my cousins turn me into a boxing bag and decided to practice their inner Pacman to me. He is sitting there alone, I don’t what’s with him but he looks sad or what. He invited me inside, told me to stay with for awhile and since I am not the sleepy and he’s madly cute I decided to stay.
I am looking at him as he tells me what happened earlier. He looks so much handsome in a very close range, I remembered that I used to watch him playing basketball every afternoon in his boxers, hot and sweaty which usually makes me hungry. Suddenly, he looked at me; he grabbed my hand and put it to his crotch, exactly where I can feel his thing which is already mad. He pulls his boxers then with no words, he pushed my head down to his thing. I don’t what kind of magic it is but I am like hypnotized to what he wants even deep inside I know that I need this, I am enjoying it. After few minutes, it ended. He continued his stories as I wipe some my face with my own shirt. Its five minutes before three in the morning when I decided to head to our house to take some rest. My head is jammed in different kind of thoughts but with all that, I know that I can sleep better without asking for my own wet dreams.
Death hour. This is the time when people should be sleeping or should be trying to sleep. I am not one of them. I want to witness what scares people, forcing them to close their eyes. I want to see where these demons come from. Where do they sleep? Do they even sleep? What keeps them awake? I stare blankly into the wall, preparing myself for anything that may happen. Will they strike first? I waited for nothing. Maybe the demons will not come out if you force them to. Or maybe they hide within me. We are demons suppressed beneath skin and bones. We are demons in our own ways, shunning away the sun. We end up being something we don’t want to. Always.
She is knocking again. I am sure of that. I heard the loud bangs at the door. I heard her screams. Is she mad? I stopped thinking about her. I have to concentrate with the here and now, I told myself over and over again. But it is no use. The more I try to clear my thoughts, the more I remember everything, clearer even. I see Ronnel’s face. I remember how his saliva tasted. I feel his warmth every time he crawls beside me. I remember him forcing me to touch his crotch; his grip on my hand becomes painful again. I remember him pushing my head downward. I remember his ecstatic moans. They ring in my ears louder and louder. He is about to reach his climax. I remember him pushing my head harder at that one moment. Everything is still clear in my head. It is as if everything is happening over again, not because it happens regularly but because it is haunting me. Then I remember having my ears really warm. I remember stabbing him as he cum that one time. I’m getting tired of what I’m doing. When his body fell, his blood and sperm trickling, I saw her. She was aghast. I remember the look in her eyes. That stuck in my head. And then, I hear her knocking now. She is screaming. Is she mad? We are demons in our own ways, they say. Is it her inner demon that is causing this? Or is it mine?
I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything.
And the sun rays start to penetrate the shadows of the room like it is trying to bring a new hope to our weary soul. There you are, lying next to me, and I can hear your heartbeat and heavy breaths as they jive together, creating a cheerful melody for the morning. I kiss you to wake you up in the morning, and give you the tightest hug I can ever give. You look me into the eyes as you give me those cheerful smiles. Everything is going to be great now. New hopes, new smiles, and the same old happy us.
This is a collaboration between the male members of The Writers’ Guild:
Aide (peculiarian):10 p.m.
Cheeno (utaklato): 7 p.m., 4 a.m., 5 a.m.
Jake (jakepullsthetrigger): 7:45 p.m., 12 midnight, 6:02 a.m.
Mark Louie (hedefines): 4:00 p.m., 8:00 p.m., 11:00 p.m.
Pepe (noonesromeo): 3:00 a.m.
Pot (gluttonousfictionaut): 2:00 a.m.
Ron (oblivionstreet): 1:00 a.m.
Rowie (bersikulo): 4:20 p.m.