another drunken soul splitting moment
in the heart of heartless libis and makati
fascinated by the lights of rockwell
and the architecture of eastwood city
we sit and wait for the evening’s plan
to materialize like some epiphany.

eleventeen shots pouring at 3am
BLISS was quiet except for six souls
trying to stop the dawn from coming

tequila, sprite and gin pom flooded
as st. madz endlessly repeated:
“there’s the cr and that’s the sink”
amidst zet’s complaints and hollow smoke rings
john and darrix alternated with the electric guitar
arjay counted snores in the background
while i stayed and refilled the glasses

its moments like these that take the gray
out of mindless meanings or create more fogs
on what’s already obscure. i sat and listened
detached from the blind who wanted to see,
and the undeaf who refused to hear..

riding a cab back to the hotel at 6am
calling in sick, and just lying in bed,
staring at the ceiling, with my head pounding..
everything was moving, and everything was still…

last night, i was a spectator,
a faceless being in the crowd
who mostly listened, and never talked much

how lucky i am,
that i was never more than that

03.08.2004.06.55.p.m.