We see them all the time
Who sell happiness as a meal
To unsuspecting people who're confused
They sound smart & have the right jokes

But follow closely & they get old
Bitter, experienced old men
Meddling into everyone's business
Trying to sell some happiness.

(seven)
i stopped wearing shorts—
unable to stop feeling eyes raking my legs
up and down, up and down.
i didn't even know there was a word for that.

(ten)
i started wearing clothes
a size big for me.
they did not ask why
i get angry whenever they force me
to wear something that clings.

i hated puberty,
how things would grow and change,
and they would stare.

(eleven)
i tried wearing shorts again.
immediately i get the feeling of someone
trailing behind me.
i went home as quickly as possible.

(thirteen)
i wore baggy clothes during commute—
a blouse and jeans. it was a thirty minute ride.
it felt longer. especially since this man
sat next to me,

hounding me nonsense— anong pangalan mo?
i do not answer.

that night, i had my resolve—
i will never commute alone again.
people laughed at me. hinahatid ka kasi lagi.

no.

(fifteen)
i started giving prolonged glares,
staring into the eyes of the beast
whenever i hear a whisper as i pass by.
hello, saan ka pupunta?

so i stare them down. funny how
they back away
as i stop in my tracks asking with my eyes
"what now, imbecile?"

does it feel bad when people don't tolerate
the ******* coming out of your mouth?

(nineteen)
ano ba kasi ang suot niya? they ask.
everything feels white-hot, searing.
i refuse to hear anymore of that.

exit.

(twenty)
every time i go home on my own
i carry something
in my hands, a blade if you must.
the night sky begins to envelop the horizon.
the streetlights cast their sickly orange hue
on the pavement as i take one last look at the hospital.

i hope i make it home in time.

the thin line between poet and:


******* artist
is so thin,
it is almost,

almost,

invisible.

i'm such a
paper person

and i've got
the same
design as
everyone else

i'm in a
different frame
but the story
has all the same lines
the same oxford comma
punctuating
the same lies

and i scream

thinking
that my voice
sounds
different
than the others
screaming beside me

what *******.

You profess to know me.
You profess to love me, too.
But you've never put in the time for either,
So I profess that neither's true.

you make me utter words
for you cannot get a single word
when i speak in full sentences.

The same old tarnish,
  but you try to paint over
      the old you.

But stains show through,
   you may have glossed over
                     past frailties.

Changing your shade doesn't
             change the fact that

you may be re-born.

           But reflections never change,
and its clear even though you painted
over, your still the original underneath..

Your worse than before,
                 same hate,
                       same lies...
But a  fresh paint job just
            hides the rust underneath..