Old Ones

What does your URL mean?

Do you know the band, Mayday Parade? If yes, I bet you know their song, “You Be The Anchor That Keeps My Feet On The Ground, I’ll Be The Wings That Keep Your Heart In The Clouds“.

My URL is from its lyrics, the part in the chorus that says, Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me? This like, spoke to me, or something.

Anyway, my original URL was supposed to be deafeningsilence but it was already taken so I removed the vowels instead. And I got dfnngslnc. If you know my other accounts, this was always my username.

But, at some point or years ago, I left tumblr. I deactiviated, but eventually I came back. My old URL though is not available anymore. So I added ths, which is “this” without the vowel i, and that’s how I got my URL now: thsdfnngslnc.

Still aching, still still

It’s almost dark, and the sun is already giving up from waiting too long for the moon to kiss him good night. Nearby, city lights are seen waking up slowly from their sleep. Then there’s a calm feeling that tiptoes into a homeless tiny boy’s heart when he looks up to swallow the stars as they begin their daily routine of sewing the skies with their warmth. There goes an echo after a single leaf fell down to the ground from which tree it belonged. Nearby, little flowers are singing silently to the song that echoes from the wind’s passing. But one thing that is almost known by the universe, is the soft heavy sigh that always come from a river between these little flowers and trees, between the people and city lights, and between the world and the stars.

It is uncertain when it started, but ever since then, the night is always achingly lonely just as the river is. But the river is still. And the river is quiet.

Sometimes. the river’s cries can be heard during rainstorms, it’s almost not there, but it is, as the river never really wants anyone to know about its nightmares. Sometimes, the river hums a tune to which leaves from the world above escape to and lead them to places unknown. Sometimes, the river dance when people encourage it to, their skin loving the river’s every rhythmic wavy touch, and the river swallows all the attention as it never really want to feel sad all the time. But sometimes, when everything is still, the river is still, and the river is quiet, and the river is quietly sobbing.

It is still uncertain, but the universe knows it eminently, that the river is aching, still aching, and that the river is still, still still.

(eusie.)

gb vkfckxjskhf ;isdujeidhfiLAdH FIEKJFif eihfow can't write anything ielhkdnfoia HGEJDFI J iejfei can't even think straight fheuwljfhdn ; idkhfnd no pun intended

B.raV.O.

Dear (b    n),

You’re: another shade of perfect that won’t match with my skin; a walking perfect disaster (a soft, soft sin).

You’re: a little too late — but still a wonderful feel — of autumn bliss; another fairytale worth a poisoned apple kiss.

You’re: pale, yet rosy and gray; midnight rumblings of ‘stay stay stay.’

You’re: a loss of breath; a wrong kind of fret.

You’re: my wrong-timing, my would-have, my what-if; my probably, my maybe.

Yours,

(eusie.)

Midnight thoughts sometimes are murderous

Then suddenly, you find comfort from the aching inside your heart,

and that’s when you start questioning yourself.

You realize You’re —

Like a ghost, lost in transition, dizzy from all the city lights, and hurting because soulless;

who are you really?

What do you want to happen?

What do you want to do?

Electric, and pounding like a patriot’s howl against the moonlight, then you lose yourself again.

(eusie.)

[title]

hey... i miss you he says

        my lungs die &         for a moment,                    i feel skinless

[“i love to say goodbyes”]

        i tame myself &         breathless,                           i say

i miss... being in love with you

(eusie.)

“you wrote that?” / “you asked me to.”

a.k.a. i’m in love with allen’s love for lu

*

i can feel it as it slowly decays                 this isn't love anymore                               last night, the sky was starless could the moon still be enough to light up the darkness?

**

i can feel you slowly drowning away     are you still in love?                      last night, i heard you crying could i still be enough to stop you from aching?

(eusie.)

a feeling: “nothing lost but something missing”

my throat tastes of rust and i'm drunk on my tears

my cries dance on the rooftop and i'm a high tide on this silent night

there is a rustling inside of me that doesn't stop

and sometimes it ends up as an aching a yearning for an unknown

this skin keeps on burning and i’m still hurting

but i don’t why

(eusie.)

found, and never lost again

a.k.a. with papers on the floor and ink bleeding on nothing, i say, “maybe words are not enough to describe you”

you are afternoon walks under the sun’s rage and we burn whenever, but it feels good like cold water caressing our skin, and we know we’re alright you are running on a sidewalk with laughter beating the sound of cars as background music, and the smell of meat pies that i love to eat you are the feeling of falling asleep after a tired day, and you are stolen kiss in the dark and heavenly giggles after our lips part you are lullabies at dawn and ballads on rainy days, and when i want to dance, i dance to your name, i dance to your heartbeat you are my wild love (the “i won’t” to my “why don’t you leave me”, and the “libre kita” to my “gutom ako”) and one day you’ll be the horrible smell of morning breath, you’ll be the glorious taste of morning coffee, you’ll be the unnecessary fights after eight o’clock, and the bouquet of exquisite roses waiting on the kitchen table at 15 past five, (the “take care” after “i’m off to work”, the “good night” after “i love you so much”, and the “midnight snack lang” after “saan ka pupunta?”) and you’ll still be my wild love, i’ll still be loving you, and writing about you, and you’ll still be my wild love (my “pangit ka”, my “damulag”, my “babuy”, my “love”)

(eusie.)

A poem written by Beau Taplin entitled, “Vacation”

a.k.a. That’s literally the title, and the poem is in italic by the way

I need to move around a bit. To shuffle my surroundings.

The day it all sank in, I didn’t find myself on the kitchen floor. But I sat on a chair, crying my heart out to the extent that I wanted it to disappear; I didn’t want a broken heart. The sobs that came from my sour lips bounced to the walls and then to oblivion, as if they knew that they were useless anyway.

To wake up in cities I don’t know my way around and have conversations in languages I cannot entirely comprehend.

I didn’t know what to read from these unknown yearnings at around two in the morning, of sad movies or sad songs, or probably just sad love. Or at mid-afternoon, when I wake up wanting something I don’t even know. Or when it rains, trying to reach out my hands and feel the drops and feel, just feel.

There is always this tremendous longing in my heart to be lost,

But after then, I know. I want to be lost in a place unknown, but then find myself in the same location where I think I forgot my soul. I want to wake up and walk to a balcony to see a different set of lights and colors waving at me from the day before. I want my heart to ache with the sight of people falling in love and knowing that I wouldn’t encounter the same love story the next city I’m in. I want to feel the lack of a familiar emotion when I come home, but know someday, I’ll be able to really forget the emptiness in my chest and really come home.

to be someplace else, to be far far away from this.

But I know that with these obligations wrapping me on my neck and disabling me to breathe properly, I have no choice of running away to find out the bliss of going to different places and being held captive by their beauty. I know that being lost in a place where no one knows my name and how my heartstrings tangle each other up to form my lonely soul is better than being found in a place where everyone drags me around and force me to suppress my dreams to want myself and feel myself and love myself after I lose myself.

(eusie.)