why are they going to kill my 10th sister eillyn.

why did they kill my cousin mawi.

i don't know why, but why do i feel like i really bleed into the nation...at my mercy or something.

 something is acting like its at my own mercy...it's at my own mercy...asking or begging for entry. here and there. and what do i say if i'm not perhaps...confused about this: top-down political systems.

starting from the top going down to the ground.

i'm a conservative.

i'm not a liberal.

it's called conservative. by the philippine system. although i'm really a british citizen...and not an american citizen.

america.......they say that it's actually republican and not democratic. @

&america is still full of tom fords and anything like that, really. so you know. @

i bleed mercy into the world...like a juicy orange (sa sarili ko)

i bleed mercy into the world //// and seep its sin out like a water pump.

it's at my mercy...asking for entries and entries.

i hated your face.

i couldn't remove your face in front of me.

i couldn't remove what you asked for.

i couldn't remove the words you said, and how you said it.

i couldn't forget or understand if you were friend or family or foe.

but i hate your face.

i hate you for asking for that. i hate you for asking for something i couldn't understand or much less give or more like what you said, give up.

i'm not immune to computer problems and difficulties

 sometimes the computer shuts itself off with perhaps, the universe's overload of unanswered requests and prayers. sometimes the system dies on me while i'm still writing something.

i was called a computer engineering student.

the computer is not...mine????

i don't have a small handheld, you see. but i've got an overload of ticks and ticklers.

so even if i have a wide-screen desktop? at the moment? i'll view something like i should...BUT THE UNIVERSE, it has an overload of ticklers and counters.

so lend a hand...and sometimes i don't have what it takes.

friends i know and the friends i go to.

some people are laid out like a bright glowing stick with a smiley face. they kind of act like a mirror-nightmare to a person...and act like th every best fine arts fantasy ever imagineable. laid out outside your door...in school.

then, if i don't trip a curtsey to the queen's injury firssst, i can't make it thru the crowd&

then i have friends as old and moldy as fried meat& as salty as squid& as brittle as white chalk&

then i just talk and it's just government requirements, the real routine called yesterday's homework talaga, how long the paragraphs and exactly what date to submit.

your mom and sister& your cousin and your neighbor& and your hometown and stuff&

my own particularities...and the things i know.

 i know many things...like how opportunities don't really arrive like a neat delivery package. opportunities are like the neighbor bringing bibingka or strange pizza to your door.

opportunities...they arrive like a message asking for a job as a graphic designer and whatnot.

but am i really one of those people carrying a shotgun-cellphone on the public bus, am i really any sort of store-owner to you like Gerald Waseda Tanaka.

but actually, sometimes any sort of guest arrives with a complete resume and qualifications...hailing form the Middle-East and Islamic...asking for some sort of graphic design job.

a strange opportunity, the very kind of opportunity, or maybe th every nature of opportunities.

unlike some things in the world, you know, like blind dates with a book in kraft paper packaging, on a table, left with no cashier or something. 

i know that opportunities and perhaps anything you really hope for....arrives like an angry neighbor asking for a cup of water at midnight.

love, its direction, its waiting, ripping, and ultimate confusion.

 sometimes i think about a loved one and just tell myself the truths of situations following one after another: its time for Lola. it's time for the President. it's time for the Government. it's time for Victory. it's time for AffinityX. it's time for the Philippines. it's time for SSS Village. it's time for China?????

but when the afternoon glassy oasis arrives& and there's just a wicker chair there& or a white window ledge&

it'll be there like the moon phases& it'll be there when every opportunity is cleared.

of toys and tools and ownership.

 sometimes you can't hear yourself. sometimes you can't understand. but some people have preferences. some people, maybe aren't one of the cool ones. 

maybe like me, my toy is really prayin? the bible? the rosary?

what if i tell you i really had a dollhouse and dolls and dresses when i was a child.

but actually, i just got a rosary and a bible when i was already in san lorenzo.

um, puro school ba talaga lahat or work nga.

but you really need to use a tool nga sometimes and i can't help but hold on and hold on and hold on.

the truth of the time.

is time a big sexy lady in black or red.

but why.

time is like the moon or sun. 

rubber faces and rubber jaws and rubber limbs and rubber legs.

 sometimes i'm riding a bus and then someone is riding clearly the best seat in the house. rubber-thick arms and a black office jacket. the girl is clearly...in college.

a shotgun-thick cellphone in hand.

i feel oppressed and constricted. i sit in the back.

the heart of hatred.

 hate, it has hunger pangs very sharp that softly sink into something fleshy in its hands. the rubbery flesh, smooth and round, makes it engulfed in its own flame and spike.

it takes a bite and can't stop....

consuming any flesh it sees.