Dis 6, 2003

Filler

you cannot quit me so quickly
there's no hope in you for me
no corner you could squeeze me
but i've got all the time for you love


the space between the tears we cried
is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more
the space between the wicked lies we tell
and the hope to keep safe from the pain
but will i hold you again?


The cursor on the white electronic notepad asks me to make sense again. I take and move it without agreeing with it. Sense is neither my anvil nor my metal. I cannot make it. The cursor has no say in the matter. It's mine.

I need greater fire for my forge because of the chill of December's first week. The damned chill interferes even with the tempering of my irons. I feel the need to pour my Ahab-blood into the working of this weapon. The devil take it! That should heat it up.

these fickle, fuddled words confuse me
like will it rain today?
we waste the hours with talking and talking
these twisted games we play


we estrange our lives with warring hearts
while the wild-eyed and amazed you'll be
the space between the wicked lies we tell
and the hope to keep safe from the pain
but will i hold you again?
will i hold you?


My brother watches basketball contests from a fetal position on the sofa. The day will come when I will give him a show. He will sit up then. Or rise. Meanwhile, the music of Matthews plays in my head and I drive the cursor. Further. I am in Makati but I am not here.

The Bay of Laguna is a walking distance from my niche in Los Banos. Walking distance is not a good index of any distance though. I've long known that I can walk distances that drive stronger people insane. I still think I'm most sane when I'm on my feet, putting one before the other and the other before the other that came before. And so. Forth.

Look at us spinning out
in the madness of a rollercoaster
you know you went up like a devil
in a touch in the middle of a crowded room
all we could do my love is hope
we don't take this ship down


Both of my parents have something to attend to today. So do both of my sisters. They divide the capital region among the four of them. The day of distances will come and those who came before will have their seats and fetal positions before their games. The four who came after will divide the world among themselves.

I am neither in Laguna nor in Makati. I cannot sense any of the world beneath my feet. I have only eyes for the black cursor. I have them, these eyes wired to my simian brain, and I see white heat, red metal, and yellow sparks. I have ears for the music tuned to the 24 second shot clock, the whistles, the cheers, the cool commentators' excited voices, and the music in my head. My fingers tap the keys lightly but I hear the fell mallet angry on metal and the sweat of my arms slapping against the skin of my sides.

the space between your smiling eyes
is where you'll find me if i get to go
the space between the bullets in the firefight
is you'll find me hiding waiting for you
the rain that falls splash in your heart around
like sadness down down the window into


the space between the wicked lies we tell
is the hope to keep safe from pain
take my hand as we're walking out of here
right out of here
love is all we need dear


It won't be long now until the cursor will know its defeat. It will not find sense because I am not the province of sense. And from where I stand, this place without earth, I cannot make it. It is not mine. Only the cursor is, and I drive it further with blows, calling it by its name. Cursor. It won't be long now until my father will sit down then lie and my brother will sit up then stand. It won't be long now until they divide the world among themselves.

I will take only this lake, this mythic, filthy flower between Rizal and Laguna. I will get there. Then the hunt will commence where I cannot walk. I will see froth and cloud as one and know heaven and water. I will hear sweat and tears on torsos and cheeks. I will feel my blood live anew, apart from me, my vital tool. But for now, among flames and blows of wind, flesh, and hammer, there is only the forging of this. My weapon.

the space between your heart and mine
is space to fill the time
the space between