busy..busy..busy..

okay, okay.. i know i've been slacking off that's why i have not written in this blog for so long and that's also why i'm cramming to finish about 5 school papers tonight... (wish me luck!) Okay, i really need to get started so enough of this for now..Don't worry if i get out of this alive, i'll definitely write about it.

intermission:
Coheed and Cambria- Three Evils Embodied in Love and Shadow

Across the floor in the hand of where we drove the drill
A cautious ear to the mouth of your confession
Think of all the things we put him through
In the face of his God would he tell the truth?
Still recorded were the words that dribbled out his kiss
When eyes go blind in this man of what could once become
Sever the limbs off his torso in sleep
And burn what remains so the world may now see
No longer...will we wait for your answers
Back to the hell where you've come from
Think of all the times you've once had
Write them in a letter that says goodbye
You'll listen to reason while you're face down in the dirt
You'll stomach the hurt and break for him here just how much he's worth
Slowly discarded were the remains of his lonely youth
Among the alley where the dwellers scare to notice
Picture a young boy in pieces and streets with leveled malfunctions
No name to be called redeemer
I'll fix him restore him...with the love of no other
Think of all the things you did before
Write them in a letter that says reborn
Following you across the interstate walking away...I'll fire on
On the wrong way out
On the causeway through/to neverwhere
Dear my friends
In the time we spent forever after beyond this when will our nightmare ever end?
Pull the trigger and the nightmare stops...

Of Cigarettes and Burning Memories

a cigarette is lit in the darkest corner
of her room, providing the tiniest speck of light.
she puts it in her mouth and inhales,
taking in every bit of its bitterness,
mixing the acrid taste with every aching
memory of everything she is losing tonight.
she plays the scene over and over in her head,
thinking of what she could've done different.
if she had only thought twice about gulping down
a handful of sleeping pills and drowning it with vodka,
if only she was not that much of a disappointment
to herself and to all the people around her,
if only she's got everything figured out,
if only she had some sort of direction in her life,
then maybe she would've never thought about doing this,
maybe she would have never thought that everything
was all so very easy to give up
but it's too late now, what's done cannot be undone.
it's too late to turn back now, she's come too far.
and as she thinks of all the things she's leaving behind,
she smokes on her cigarette,
the smoke providing such a dramatic background
for her nostalgic memories of love, loss, hapiness and grief.
she smokes on her cigarette as she waits
for the inevitable coming of her doom.
and as as she finishes her cigarette, she looks on
as she puts its fire out on her ashtray,
then she gets another one, lights it, and puts it in her mouth
as a tear slowly makes its way down her cheek.
this is how she chooses to grieve,
for lost hopes, lost dreams, lost sanity.
this is how she chooses to wait for the inevitable,
slowly, agonizingly, killing time,
with one bitter stick after another.

inspired by Susana Kaysen's memoir "Girl, Interrupted"

on silence

currently listening to: sunny day real estate -song about an angel

so now what? for starters, i've lost my voice, literally. my throat's been sore since tuesday and it still won't get any better. i think its actually getting worse, god forbid. so basically, for now it's best that i just speak in hushed whispers, speaking normally just requires too much effort. second, i currently have a temperature and third, i only have two weeks to get better before our next gig. *sigh* let's just hope against hope that i start feeling better sometime soon. *sniff-sniff* good thing i can still rant about in my writing. mwahaha! and they thought i can be silenced.. well, they thought wrong..damn it! being sick with laryngitis is just hell, i mean you can't eat anything! well, anything sweet that is. dang, and here i am craving for a hazelnut donut for weeks on end now. *sigh* i feel so deprived. (yis! o.a. na to)

no but really, not being able to speak, is very depriving. i'm never really quiet, so i guess that kinda explains why i feel this way. it's just that silence sometimes just seems so awkward, its like a cold empty room that i can't help but try to fill with whatever noise i can think of, may it be music, or stupid, pointless stories, or silly questions i can think of. i've read somewhere that silence is a text that is often and easily misread and i got to thinking, does that mean that i've been misreading all these silence in my intent to fill it with whatever noise i can think of? possibly. maybe i did, in one or two occasions. but see, in my opinion, there are two kinds of silence, the pleasant kind and the awkward/awful kind and it's probably just a matter of distiguishing between the two. if you ask me i prefer the first to the second but lately it seems that the second is the only silence i keep on getting, hence, my need to fill the void. either that or i'm just no good at distinguishing between the two. but how i wish to get one of those pleasant stances of silence again.. which reminds me, i think i also read this or heard it from somewhere, it says that the deepest feeling conveys itself in silence. i can't help but agree. for there are indeed certain moments when words just become too superfluous and silence is just enough, even more than enough at that certain instant to capture whatever it is you're feeling. hmm.. silence, be it the first kind or the second, it just speaks volumes don't you think?

A Tribute to the Nameless

Sounds, noise from the outside
footsteps, muffled voices,
people talking, her talking.
I listen to the sound
of her voice, like music
putting me to sleep,
providing some comfort,
assuring me that everything
is as it should be.

I try to understand
the words I hear, but I can’t
for I’m much too young
to understand anything.

--------------------------------

The doctor tells her to lie down on the bed and rest her legs up the stirrups. He injects her with anesthesia. He opens up her cervix with the use of a tenaculum and then proceeds to use dilators to make the opening wider. He then introduces his large grasping forcep through the vaginal and cervical canal and continues to make his way inside the uterus.

--------------------------------

Then, there’s silence
they stopped talking.
I wonder what they’re doing.
Then I hear someone sobbing,
she is crying, I feel her sobs.
I try to comfort her, to make her
smile but I do not know how
for I am still too young.

Then I see something bright,
like a ray of light making its way
inside and getting bigger.
then it is gone, disappearing
as fast as it appeared,
replaced by some unfamiliar
thing, that is inching
closer and closerto where I am.

---------------------------------

An ultrasound is used to determine how the fetus is positioned inside the uterus. The doctor uses his forceps to tear the fetus out of the womb, taking out its lower extremities firsts, pulling it into the vagina. Afterwards, the doctor uses his fingers to deliver the opposite lower extremity, and then the torso, the shoulders and the upper extremities.

However, the skull lodges itself in the internal cervical canal, so the doctor proceeds and hooks his fingers over the shoulders of the fetus. While maintaining this tension, lifting the cervix and applying traction to the shoulders with the fingers, the doctor then inserts a blunt tipped surgical scissor into the base of the skull and spreads the tips apart to enlarge the wound. Then a suction cathter is inserted into the skull and the brain is sucked out. The skull than collapses and the heand passes easily through the cervix.

-----------------------------------

I feel something cold
touch me.
OUCH!
It’s poking me, hurting me!
It’s trying to get me!
I try to get away but I can’t
there is too little space.
AAAARRRGGGHHH!
It’s got me, it's got my legs.
I try to kick and flail about
but the thing has a firm grasp,
leaving me, paralyzed.
I try to scream and shout,
but I couldn’t.
I try to call out to her
but she is unreachable.
I try to get away but I can’t
there is too little space.
I look at the spiral cord in my belly,
the cord that connects me to her.
Does she feel it too?
Does she know I’m hurting?

Then I feel something pulling me,
it's trying to take me out, out of my safe place!
Away from her, her voice, her warmth.
Then i felt a wisp of wind on my legs,
on my torso, and on my chest.
Then something grips my shoulders,
it's hurting me; it's grasping my head
then i feel this sharp, piercing pain
in the back of my head.
The pain is still there, it won’t quit,
It’s sucking the life out of me, I feel myself
drifting, drifting away.
Everything is turning red, and then
black.

----------------------------------

The dead fetus is then placed in a container, as requested by the patient. The doctor gives her, her dead child. A few hours later, she secretly digs a hole in her parent’s garden and buries the remains of her baby. She cries her eyes out until her whole body shook, until she loses all strength to cry anymore.

-----------------------------------

I ask myself why,
why she let this happen,
why she did not protect me
I ask myself why,
why she has hurt me,
why she has killed me.
She probably doesn’t want me.
I don’t think she even liked me at all.

I think
she hates me.

written for and inspired by a friend, l.c.p.k.