So this is what it’s like
In the embrace of the quantum theory of light –
In waves, corpuscular, electromagnetic.

This is how it’s like,
To cross the vacuum, the vast unknown, the infinite pits
An archaeological dig for truth in the dark, in measured speed.

Contrasting, conflicting, constant, correct.
Like secrets from mirrors, well-suppressed under blankets.

For stories are not like wells, they don’t run dry
They’d fold like letters & they’d swarm like flies
Should passion define truth, it will be told
Between skin and sweat, in consciousness & shadows.

This isn’t a test for those who would hold verses like breaths,
This is a confession blessed, naked to the sun and the planets.
For decades of stripping respect off the concept of Eros,
It’s time to make the banshees silent, the hiatus of chaos.

No baby apocalypses, no dying stars, no question of existence.
I’ll let your vacuum & light consume me, devoid of deviance.
The gate of the heavens has found its keys, its visitor.
Soul keeper, destiny dude, mind mangler, heart captor.


It’s the hardest thing to write about something you truly feel something about. You can’t grasp it, you can’t fathom it, and even when you try, words fail to justify, words fail to be sufficient. Redundancy bastardizes it, and flowery words are nowhere near what you have gotten and found yourself into.

You don’t even feel it in the heart per se. You feel it in your head, like a current of electricity cursing through your brain, static, steady, keeping you alive.

In the loss for words, you take a deep breath trust your body to tell that story, and hope to the gods that a tangible tale would weave the intangible, the abstract, the surreal.

You trust yourself to show a place you’ve never set foot before, to take a person into a tour, a stroll, inside you.

Know what it feels like to be here in this locus that only deities, demons and dreams can touch.

Actualize poetry in motion.

Come in, this is the most secret of secrets, my Holy of Holies.

You know you’re in love and alive when you’ve been hit, hard and fast and strong like a fireball from a slingshot, and it feels damn right, glowing like the sun, clear and bright as day, a study in light.

(c) 2012

Protected by Copyscape Duplicate Content Detection Tool

For my man, Edman Chris Dominique Jorillo. Check him out @

(He’s a graphic artist and more.)


Go. Moan. Scream. Tell me if you like it. Make some noise.

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