“Love is a job doer and a man slayer. Both equally efficient, until the taste of it is most felt on the cold side of the ribs.”

Breathe in the pain and bring out the wounds. It’s only a process and you’ll learn to survive the rest.

Give everything some time; pain hasn’t learn to walk yet.

Somedays depression is tender, as though hurting is just an art; and that maybe she didn’t break me more than enough!

Like a fractured bone in the ribs, the heart can be painfully heavy sometimes.

Perhaps I mistook the pain with work in progress.

When I say I love you, I mean something raw something below the surface of all waters; something almost too naked and true!

Like her name, some people are best left scrouged on the skin.

I’ve been quiet most of today. By which I mean I can see myself in the mirror; And believe me it is something hard to look at these days.

I guess you’re the bee and the stings all at once; By which I mean you’re the reason I wrap these tired bones around every aching thing.

In the end the salt calls the ocean home; and I guess this is why drowning has always been a part of loving you.

I guess this has been my confusion; where I went wrong. Thinking that love could possibly come as a thing without the burns.

To me there was only ever you!

I knew you would leave someday; And from there a poet will be born from the ashes.

There’s not much I know about forgetting. By which I mean I can hear her name from a distance; and it still breathes cold in my chest.

Respect pain. Every heartfelt word is first born from sadness.

I’m a drunk poet; and I guess maybe I sipped too much of what I couldn’t buy of her.

If we don’t have God in our life, we’re considered dead.

You live and learn. Then you die and forget it all.

I meet you and know suddenly and horribly there is no difference between sex and war that I must die to get that close to touching god.

I had a lot of dates but I decided to stay home and dye my eyebrows.

Well you know it’s dangerous in politics, because especially in the Philippines there’s a lot of killing in politics.

I’m a big ‘Goosebumps’ fan – ‘Revenge of the Lawn Gnomes.’ My favorites are the pick-your-own-death ones.

I am firmly convinced that there is life after death, not in a primitive sense but as the entry of my completely finite person into God’s infinity, as a transition into another reality beyond the dimension of space and time that pure reason can neither affirm nor deny.

When it is dark, it seems to me as if I were dying, and I can’t think any more.