the ice cream poet

I eat poetry with ice cream by the beach.

[iamtheicecreampoet]

you know what, i found a guy who was exactly what I wanted but turned out to be not what i needed.

the needs really do outweigh the wants.

quarantine discoveries.

[iamtheicecreampoet]

I watched a kid die.

Well, there was no audio but it still felt like I was there and I was the one who had let the kid die.

I went to a temple and promised I would pray for his soul, apologize for all the things I was not able to do to prevent his death.

But as I walked to write his name on the paper meant for wishes, I turned around and ran to my friends instead.

Lunch, I thought.

Even if I had prayed then, he’d still be dead. But lunch and my friends--they were waiting.

I get to decide.

12:18, 16 August 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

We are all trying.

21:13, 23 July 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

It will be okay.

9:56, 15 July 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

[iamtheicecreampoet]

You can’t dream a sunrise into existence. Contrary to common belief, a lot of things are constant. The sun, no matter how magical, rises in the east and sets in the west. Hearts never actually skip beats. There is no magic in the air, no dancing in the moonlight. We understand what we touch and feel no matter how much we refuse to accept it. All things considered, this world is pretty mundane. The way your bed owned my shape; the way you talked without stealing my silence; the way your kisses found their place on my cheeks, even the way you smiled at the exact moment I needed to see it– This world, with you in it, is mundane and constant and predictable and I am in love with it. Know that when I hold your hand and touch your lips it is me finally planting myself firmly in a place where I can live, a reality in which I can breathe, and I would like to just stay here.

7:09, 15 February 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

You can’t dream a sunrise into existence. Contrary to common belief, a lot of things are constant. The sun, no matter how magical, rises in the east and sets in the west. Hearts never actually skip beats. There is no magic in the air, no dancing in the moonlight. We understand what we touch and feel no matter how much we refuse to accept it. And these feelings matter most when we tell the people who should know exactly when we feel them. All things considered, this world is pretty mundane but it isn’t predictable. Humanity flows in rhythmic waves no matter how constant the people. The beauty of the universe lies in discovering it and you should know that, to me, You are the whole universe in one person. You are the place where I can live, the reality in which I can breathe. You, in front of me, is not magic but the sincere, powerful belief that I could not possibly exist anywhere else. When I hold your hands and touch your lips, my whole being travels galaxies and light years with you as the point from which everything begins and I am still in love with it. You are everything that is real and makes sense. In you I will never be lost. If you’d let me, I would like to just stay here.

What have you learned so far? || 10:14, 1 July 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

You can’t dream a sunrise into existence. Contrary to common belief, a lot of things are constant. The sun, no matter how magical, rises in the east and sets in the west. Hearts never actually skip beats. There is no magic in the air, no dancing in the moonlight. We understand what we touch and feel no matter how much we refuse to accept it. All things considered, this world is pretty mundane. The way your bed owned my shape; the way you talked without stealing my silence; the way your kisses found their place on my cheeks, even the way you smiled at the exact moment I needed to see it-- This world, with you in it, is mundane and constant and predictable and I am in love with it. Know that when I hold your hand and touch your lips it is me finally planting myself firmly in a place where I can live, a reality in which I can breathe, and I would like to just stay here.

7:09, 15 February 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

I really have someone cooking me dinner and making me ice cream crepe i think i‘m gonna cry?!

20:24, 14 June 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

[iamtheicecreampoet]

Then he also made me cookies which he said i should eat with wine?! What the fuck

[iamtheicecreampoet]

I really have someone cooking me dinner and making me ice cream crepe i think i‘m gonna cry?!

20:24, 14 June 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

[iamtheicecreampoet]

I really have someone cooking me dinner and making me ice cream crepe i think i‘m gonna cry?!

20:24, 14 June 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

What magic exists that allows me to feel my heart beat in my chest yet hear the pounding against a distant rib cage not my own?

What power exists that allows your voice to erupt as you rise in waves like the ocean when the blood that boils belongs to me, a body not your own?

Is this Love or Anger? || 8:06, 4 June 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

It would always take three steps. Everyday, as I lie in bed, sweats balling on my forehead, dead and exhausted, I measured it. it would take three steps to get to the window from my soft, soft bed. Blue ink has stained my bed covers. Vibrant, its droplets lovers of blank spaces indelibly marking moments of dissociation-- or moments of concentration. I was working too much my stomach did not deserve attention. The other day I ran out of shirts. Royal blue, oversized, there by the bedside it caught my worried eyes. I wore it and thought this must be what it feels like to finally find what has always kept me searching. Reaching over to hold your hand for the first time is a treasured memory and it reminds me of sushi and all the things that make me happy; sushi like the one you sent me the day ink spilled and I was hungry; sushi like our hands in layers as we walked and everyone could see. See, today I get up and take three steps and open the window and there is the clear blue sky, like a snapshot of soft, blue paint in warm water dancing, so patient and beautiful and ever present just like you. You are my favorite color. 17:28, 13 April 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

[iamtheicecreampoet]

I like what is happening. I really do.

[iamtheicecreampoet]

Maybe one day I‘ll look back and laugh at this moment, saying “Look at young me believing what this woman said about how she’s not good enough and how she’s selfish for choosing her sanity.”

Maybe one day.

Today, I’ll be crying my heart out over my fears and dreams and questions and doubts, hoping one day I won’t have to do so ever again.

[iamtheicecreampoet]

Parang tambol. Parang tambol na paulit-ulit hinahampas: Mabigat, malakas, marubdob. Hindi ko naiintindihan. Ang akala ko dati'y kapag ang instrumento ay nilayon, nilikha upang gumawa ng musika ay sadyang musika lamang ang iluluwal nito. Ang akala ko dati'y kapag tao ang manunugtog lahat ng tunog ay musika at lahat ng hangin ay may tono. Parang tambol: Mabigat, malakas, masakit. Bawat hampas ay latay sa pusong pagod. Wala akong naiintindihan; Maingay ngunit 'di ko gusto pakinggan. Walang musika. Walang awit. Hindi ko maintindihan kung tao ba, kung may puso ba ang manunugtog. Maingay, paulit-ulit-- SINO BANG HUMAHAMPAS SA TAMBOL? Tama na. Kung kaya kong mabuhay nang walang tainga matagal na silang wala. Nakakapagod makinig kung bawal sumayaw. Nakakapagod makinig kung bawal kumanta. Kung ang layunin ng dagundong ay buksan ang lupa, maaari nang magpahinga. Marahil hindi na mariringgan ang ingay kung sa ilalim na ng daigdig nakadapa.

14:40, 27 January 2020

[iamtheicecreampoet]

There’s someone I don’t want to forget

But I don’t think I remember his face anymore.