Monday, December 03, 2007

"...and my lungs are mourning"

I wonder if a dying person does usually cry. one time, in the middle of a theater workshop, our facilitator told us that the act of dying is really hard because you cannot coincide any memory or any stimulus about dying since we haven’t experienced being dead yet. thus, any attempted act of dying will always fall short of the real expression or always be noticeably fake. then he added that dying is in parallel with orgasm. considered to be as the ascension of the soul to an individual vision of heaven (to my imagination, it would be the scenes in: What Dreams May Come, 1998). So the moment should be painfully blissful. Thus the idea of ejaculating behind the scene could be necessary to attain such orgasmic pain of dying. that idea amuses me.

.............

I just can't keep my eyes burst into tears. the overwhelming emotion might have caused this. I guess I have lower level of happy chemicals within me. i'm struck with ripples of sadness. too dark to see it in dark murky water, it could only be counted by how many times my floating blanket cascaded with the surface of the water. the water rises from my ears to my cheeks.. then slowly swallowing my entire face up until to the tip of my nose. I can't breath. like in a dream. sometimes you can't scream as well as we forget to breathe, in our dream.

....


I drew it on my sketchpad. Dark twigs of dark willow trees. it could be a leafless mangrove tree since its silhouette is reflected by the ink jet water. the moon is always there, emotionless but staring. my body floats in a dark current. my eyes pass though intricate twigs and slim branches with moonbeam piercing through spaces. I surrender myself completely to the water's coarse. it was a dream dated 11/28/2005.

..................

I shiver with a slightest breeze, I hesitate to dip in but the sea is too inviting to resist. I dock into the water level to keep me warm with its placidity, then Chai and I help Ms. Bambi, as she pull the found banka to a mystery lush of mangroves. I recognized Bambi's profile with the sliver of the moonbeam on her profile as well as the glistening of her hair as it cut through the water. she seems to be a sea nymph guiding us to a secret place. we get into the thicket of mangroves until we reach a clearing. it's like an oval track only that it’s surrounded with trees rooted into the dark waters.. It’s eerie and marvelous at the same time. it's like a scene grabbed from a mythical book of Tolkien. we reach the epicenter and saw the shy moon unshrouded herself at last. she is our main audience as we swim into the warm sparkled water. then we continue to wade through unknown territories, stepping our feet into slithering roots and muddy sands. while Bambi, our sea nymph guide tied the rope around a flimsy branch and we try to hide our identity from the guarding trees. from its roots, there dwell invisible organisms. we could only see them once we try to wave our hands under water and see neon lights illuminated through the dark. I know this is real. Chai and Russ already saw these zooplanktons and they are for real. But I can't contain myself to the extent I plunge into the dark water, opening my eyes to see those neon lights crash into my face and then I feel my eyes searing with pain and my lungs filled with murky waters.

...

My vision gets blurred this time. depressed, I might be and annoyingly I can't find my own voice. my own lungs choking me. I grab my phone and txted Vera.

"Ver, gusto naku mamatay, i want to drown myself with dark murky waters.."

2 comments:

http://kingdaddyrich.blogdrive.com said...

why, do you have a problem?

veraLeigh said...

liyo!
i painted my nails white. hope that would make you smile. i miss you.

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