The Keytihelow Doll Theater presents...

 

Bones

Fragile bones protruding on marble white flesh.
A neck of milk, a lovely lace of hollow clavicles
Adorning the smooth of her shoulders.
Cold fingertips graze her tender arms
Down to her elbows,
Down to her slender wrists.
It was a touch devoid of meaning
'Cause I touch her just to feel
Bones frigid yet brittle
Hiding beneath muscles and purple veins --
A labyrinth under a blanket of translucent skin.
She lay oblique on a garden of sheets
She lay still with a lifeless face
Slowly I trace her jawline and its shadows
Trace the sternum down
To a ruffle of ribs delicate as talc
I trace every bone, her every knuckle
Her pelvis and knees, her ankles and toes
Slowly I delve 
Into the delicate outline of her being...
Slowly I stare
And watch this damned woman
Staring back and reaching for her own hand
Poking the opaque glass
Hoping like a fool that it's a portal to Eden.

Mother, mother, I am sick.


Everybody wants to grow old. Everybody wants to live long and work hard. Everybody thinks about having kids, finding someone to spend forever with... Everybody thinks about the future. I don't get it.

I'm afraid of getting old. I'm afraid of wrinkles and gray hair. I'm afraid of losing my teeth. And I'm afraid of becoming a mother. I'm afraid of what my children will be like. I'm afraid of the future, because it's pitch black. Thinking about it is like entering a dark windowless room in the dead of the night. You don't know what's in there. You can imagine there are monsters inside. Or anything scattered on the floor. What if you trip and smash your face on the floor? You don't even know what the floor is like. What if there's poo and pee... what if you step on them with your bare feet?

Everybody wants to live, because everybody is looking forward to something. Everybody's working hard to get something. It's sad 'cause I don't fucking have that something. They call it a "goal". I don't fucking have that. I don't want to become anything. I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want any single fucking thing.

I'd say I want to be a writer. I want to do a film. I want to go to the mountains. Well guess what, I just "want" them for the sake of wanting something. Surprise! 'Cause I don't want to be here. I don't want what I am. I don't want this ability to think and understand what's happening. Call me what you want, yeah maybe I am sick. But if you'd ask me what I want, I just want my brain to stop. I don't want to see, hear, smell, feel, taste anything. I don't want to be able to do anything, not even moving a muscle or blinking an eye. I don't want anything and for that fact, I do want just one thing: to vanish. See, not wanting anything is a dangerous thing. I don't even want to move.

I would buy things I don't really need, do things I don't really know what I'm doing for. Just because I'm bored. Life is boring and all I want is to get out of it but I'm trapped in it because it holds everything! It's the only dimension my liquid brain knows, and now it doesn't know where else to go. It wants to vanish but does anybody even know how to actually get lost?!

Even this "vanishing cream" isn't what I need. It's just going to make you invisible, but you're still there. You still know where you are and where your body parts are, it's just that no one can see. How do you get lost? How would you die without any trace... without a corpse?

Tonight I just want to wallow in a deep black sleep... I'd wish that sleep is a blackhole and it would suck me in and take me somewhere no one would ever know, not even me. I'd close my eyes and see myself standing on a cliff. Everybody'd walk towards me and inch by inch, I'd step backwards... and then I'd fall. Everybody will be watching as I fall in slow motion. I'd fall and I'dstare into everybody's eyes, and everybody would stare back. I'd fall and sharp air would fill my ears, and my clothes and my hair would just brush against the trees on the cheeks of the cliff. And then I'd finally fall into the ocean - the fall would send out a violent splash like a missile. I'd fall further down under the water, but all everybody would see is the surface. Voila. I am gone then. Everybody wouldn't know where I am. Me, too.

That's what I want. I'm sick and there's no cure. So give me that.

Wonders of the Mouth

When you fill your cheeks with air, where does the air come from? Is it breath? Imagine, you can fill your cheeks with air out of nowhere, but you can't make that air vanish! You need to open your mouth to release it.

. . .

Just a moment ago, I was gulping some water from a bottle when suddenly I felt like I needed to belch a little. Just a little, okay? Like, there's some air in my throat that I need to let out before swallowing the water that I'm drinking. So, I did let out the air and then gulped in the water -- without opening my mouth. So... where did the air go?!

. . .

Meh. What do I know about science.

Your argument is invalid

Isang araw, sumakay ako ng bus. Umupo. Maya-maya ay nilapitan na ako ng konduktor. Inabot ko ang buo kong pera na 500 pesos. 

Konduktor: "Wala ka bang barya?"
Ako: "Magkano ba ang pamasahe?"
Konduktor: "52 pesos."
Ako: "Bakit, barya ba ang 52 pesos? Ha?"
Konduktor: "Kumpara sa pera mong 500, barya lang yun."
...
Ako: "Kahit na!"

Samakatuwid ay tinanggap pa rin ng konduktor ang pera kong 500 at pagkalipas ng ilang saglit ay binigay na niya ang sukli ko.

Lumipas ang mahabang byahe at sa wakas ay bababa na ako. Tumayo na ako at lumapit sa may pintuan.

Ako: "Sa tabi lang po."
Driver: "Teka lang itatabi lang."
Ako: "Sabi ko nga 'di ba 'sa tabi lang'?"
...
Driver: "Kahit na!"

Pumara naman siya in fairness.

Big White Dress

Lift my veil
And touch my thick fake lashes
As I throw my glass heels to the lake.

In the sunkissed grass, we sit and roll.
Let me wallow
in these endless ripples of white fabric.

Come with me
In this vast ocean of satin
and petticoat.

Let's swim and drown
In this big white cloth.

Weary

Flying ashes.
Dust in your eyes.
Dried leaves swirling with the wind.
Old jeepneys farting thick black smoke.

Everything kills.
Sometimes everything wears you out.
You just walk.
And you don't feel your feet anymore.

Psycho Sunday

gonna put a chainsaw
between your legs
and let it do the work
all the way up to your zenith
until you fall apart
into two pieces
of symmetrical figures.

you're gonna scream:
"OMG, OMG, Oh-Em-Gee!!!"
but nobody's gonna help you
'cause darling, they're all scared of me.

Mommy

A mother and her little girl with Down's Syndrome. The child was clean and all dressed up. They were strolling in the mall, laughing together.

The child's laughter... so priceless and pure. Teeth and gums bared out without shame. She laughed, holding her mother's hand...

They looked happy, without a doubt. But we all know. The mother knows. In this cruel world, amongst people, witless, judging, and  devoid of compassion, her little girl will grow up. She will not be little anymore, and she will suffer.

But right in this moment, she's still her little girl. And they walk hand in hand, laughing without a care.

where art thou

i lay in bed
all day
without bath
without food and drink
and i leave the doors open
to invite the criminal mind
to come inside
and find a lone prey
spreadeagle
on the crumpled sheets
amongst the dog shit
and puddles of dog piss.

he will come in
black clad
his knife will gleam in the dark.

spreadeagle
i will listen to his footsteps
anticipate
for the creak of my door.

at the sight of his tall shadow
i will close my eyes
and the skin of my back
shall earnestly wait
for the kiss
of a metal blade.

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