Run, It's A Must.

Call me H. I write shit.

[boxeduphysteria]

Perhaps in another lifetime we could have been just friends. It would have been less complicated to tell you "I love you" without needing you to need me all the time.

It would could have been easier to trust that your hands would always have the steady grip while we walk on murky waters.

It would have been nice to not fight because my words weren't as colorful as you wanted them to be just so I could illustrate the works of my heart that was all reserved just for you.

Perhaps in another lifetime we could have been just friends. But this lifetime got us crossing the lines, forgetting limits and vulnerabilities, feeling sorry after each argument that we didn't win, leaving each other high and dry, and being casualties of a love that was supposed to be there.

[boxeduphysteria]

there must be something

in these pills that dulled

the glimmer in these eyes

in my head I have died

a thousand deaths

and attended each

of my own funerals

I've waited for eulogies

from best friends

from former lovers

from families and realized

they are not coming yet

'cause it's all in my head

I wasn't faithless

and I could count all the

"honey, why don't you try praying?"

lord knows how much pain

I got from kneeling

from dusk till dawn

to send these demons fleeing

it must be sad to view the world

with limited perspective

alternating between

the mania and the misery

but I couldn't choose what

disorder I could and

couldn't have

but lord knows I prayed

a thousand prayers

to see the light of each day

and lord knows I prayed

a thousand prayers

for these pills to work their magic

[boxeduphysteria]

we were golden like sunshine

painted in the brightest hues of yellow

we used to whisper through the lines

17 weeks of I love you's and please-don't-let-this-go

but we tasted bitter somewhere along the way

and scarred ourselves from fights we both never won anyway

you started sleeping it off to keep yourself from crying

and in your sleep, I learned to undo the chains from lock picking

I wanted dreamland with you

but all we had was just a reality of a fleeting affair

both of us running but never

meeting at the end

I'm sorry, love, that I made you cry

I packed my bags early before you could ever wake up

but I left you a note at the bedside table

because loving you is still one for the books

[boxeduphysteria]

you told me that love doesn't have to be

burning rage of heartbeats, hot like summer

that it could be as blooming as the flowers in springs

and that you'd love me in every season

[boxeduphysteria]

we wanted nothing but be

entangled arms when midnights hit

and strangers with empty eyes

in the streets

our broken ribs were piercing

through the heart with wounds too deep

and scars too many to count

too much work for time to heal

sometimes i wish we were

more than just fragile threads

trying to be woven into a masterpiece

cos all the times we've been trying

we tear apart into nothingness

[boxeduphysteria]

[boxeduphysteria]

1. i guess mother and father did not realize that they gave me the steel backbone they hated for years they said i was too sad about my life as if i was a favorite toy that no one enjoys anymore but of course, when you make a 6-year old feel like wilted boquet of flowers left under the summer sun when all the giddy feeling has been washed away by facts that weather changes and love can be a fist fight, she'd wither and maybe on some days gas light herself believing that needing a pair of arms is only being needy and being needy is a disability and i'm sorry my dear mother and father cos i never outgrew how proud you were when i drew stick people and fancy dresses telling me "you're going places someday"

2. i wanted to tell you stories that honestly i'm tired or writing about but would still do in case you're still listening or appearing to be interested, do you still have an hour to spare? or did resentment take over the void i left when i disappeared 2 years ago? i wanted to apologize for not being the sheep you wanted to prey on any longer because honestly we're just both scheming beasts just waiting who would surrender to whom and it became apparent and appalling each time i think about it, but i still wanted you to listen i just don't know if i still wanted to pull you in to have a taste of your mouth, feel your burning skin pressed down against mine, or even have you inside me, fucking each other relentlessly because why do we have to go that route each time fuck it sometimes i miss you but it feels steadier not seeing you

3. i think i'm outgrowing my love for writing and it makes me lonelier thinking how much of my life is wasting away by being a mother a wife a worker but not the creator i've always wished to be i'm not being ungrateful of my seemingly good life i just wish sometimes i could disappear so i can make a space for doinh what i used to love the most

[justscribbledwords]

we were a heady combination of i want you and i don’t want you, i want you to want me but i don’t want to want you, i need you yet i’ll never want you. we watched each other suffer, thinking suffering is the only way we could ever be anything to each other, annual birthday wishes and biannual ‘i need you’s’ and triannual ‘save my contact because i want to see your face’. maybe we were a seasonal thing where we loved to make each other miserable for days and left each other alone for months.

[boxeduphysteria]

It's not in my cards to write

about the times we went

back and forth through the notions

that gold was our connection

as long as the ties that bind us are ropes

made out of meetings in the middle

of our different cities

us hiding in secret with our own secrets

and secrets we keep from each other

tell me honey, how many truths about you

did you let me know?

It's not in my cards to keep things going

nor to keep up with you during late nights

when I'm drunk and the night

was a playing field of the game

I wasn't sure I would win

but I'd play anyway

but we only kept scores from all the wanting

but never progressing banters and small talks

pretending we could be friends

and that we could learn to curb

our wantings in all the bad timings

tell me honey, how many nights did you sleep on

seething over the fights

we weren't supposed to have

but we did?

It was never in my cards to fold

and you became my favorite thing to hold

but each time I'd give you an inch,

you'd take a mile and leave without

saying much

and come back like summer; impolite and abrupt

burning my face and my back

but tell me honey, why do you keep coming back?

but I'll be the one to write on that card of yours

that in this game, we're both on losing ends

even with the sleightest hands

we couldn't keep playing with luck

and inwardly keep the bluffing

and secretly smirking, believing we got the win

honey, you were never supposed

to be in my cards but somehow I guess

we played it well.

[boxeduphysteria]

if you tell your wife she could leave in the morning

on the night of argument,

she may not leave.

she may just look at you with questions

or look at you, gauging how dead your eyes can get

if they ever are really dead, because hers have

died longer that you two could remember

if you tell your wife she could leave in the morning

you may still find her in the kitchen

fixing you breakfast, but not poisoning you

because your words are enough to choke you,

summoning the death of her joy

as if your love is a fist fight she can never win

if you tell your wife she could leave in the morning

little by little, she may leave

she may start packing up her very little pieces of patience,

cooking her Adobo and Bistek a little different

so all you would have is the putrid taste you

left in her mouth

for all the years she spent on dealing with the

little lies you made her believe,

for all the the things you chose to keep to yourself

despite the repeated why's and what's

for all the fire you threw her into

burning her out until she could no longer recognize 

even her own eyes in the mirror

if you tell your wife she could leave in the morning

maybe you do not have to really tell her

she lives inside her head, an isolated space

and you are just another voice inside

she'll rather not hear but will sing to

if you tell her she could leave in the morning

maybe not today, but tomorrow

she might just try.

[boxeduphysteria]

"your eyes look sad"

how dare you, stranger

point out that I don't like smiling

at people lying through their teeth

about being interested in reading

all the poems I may write them one day,

when they're gone.

"your eyes look sad"

how dare you, stranger

try to find the lowest note in my laughter

and tell it's okay if I wanted to cry,

because I wanted to

and how dare you, stranger

smell tears from a distant elevator space.

"your eyes look sad"

how dare you, stranger

unearth the aching bones

I have been trying to bury for a long time

so I can forgive myself

for the things I did not and wished I have become.

"your eyes look sad"

how fucking dare you, stranger

unravel the words I've been keeping

stuck under my tongue, staled and unforgiving

and make them yours in no time, voluntarily

like resistance melting into nothingness,

all forms of defense I engineered

throughout the years of wars waging inside me

were now walls of Jericho, crumbling

surrendering, taking a rest into a calm sunset.

"your eyes look sad"

and how fucking dare you, stranger

linger on a memory of a Saturday morning

I still think about,

longer than having you around

I was already mad for wanting your eyes

fixed on me, and it got worse

for wanting you for me

how dare you, how dare you

add up to the heaviness of these eyes, that you said, looked sad.

[boxeduphysteria]

Old hobbies resurfacing. Maybe if I do this for the next 10,000 hours, I'd be good enough.

[boxeduphysteria]

“It’s not a storm without the strong wind and the heavy downpour. It’s not an earthquake without a quavering. If love does not move you at any given intensity, maybe that love is supposed to be shaking somebody else.”

— boxeduphysteria

[flowerytale]

Bram Stoker — Dracula

[boxeduphysteria]

[boxeduphysteria]

Euphoria was in a vacation on that Thursday night

you decided to come and see me in flesh,

with a box of sushi and a heart full of stones you swallowed--

it was heavy.

i recognize the wrinkles on your face from nights

that sleep wasn't the best option to have and it felt like

a burden and made you evenmore restless--

i had them too

only that mine was concealed and confined

within the premise of my casual "hi" and measured smile and controlled alcohol consumption--

it was nice meeting you

Surprise was the kind of friend

you do not exactly invite upon meeting a stranger

but he decided he'd follow you and met us

in between lit up cigarette sticks and outermost

layer of comfort we felt towards each other

after few bottles of beer

there was a tug in your heart

questioning the initial belief that you only

wanted ears to listen and not

another pair of arms to hold you when the cold bites

oh, how nice it was to meet you

Love was a nomad only taking temporary refuge

on two lonely souls that cross paths at certain points

but on a Friday night it decided to settle

between your loneliness and my hope

that the next season of our limited existence

would be a plethora of all the springs we missed

after the winters have left our hands and hearts

frozen in lonely moments

like unfinished letters of love that was meant to

be sent to someone who was no longer there to read them

Love only had a pair of boots that was meant to

continously wander

but Love has learned to build its tent with our

long night conversations and tears that were long held

just so it could shelter our heads from

the wolves that come to prey on loose strands of hope

and fervent prayers for the morning to arrive sooner.

it is a pleasure to meet you, finally.

[quotemadness]

You sometimes think you want to disappear, but all you really want is to be found.

Kid Cudi (via quotemadness)