There’s a void that needs to be noted.

The space where my creativity nourished,

is now buried in a box of long past gone lovers.

Clinging to a crippled paper,

hoping that…

dreams can straighten and recover.


The Sound Of College.


Riding the train rekindles a smog of emotions that perplex me.

On one spectrum, I love it, it’s romantic in its own way. The train was my only way of transportation up till my twenties. The distance between here and there gave me enough time to reflect on the things that I hid at the back of my brain. A train ride can calm the mind and body with a book in hand.

But there is the other spectrum, the part of train rides that I hate. Waking up at five in the morning is not the best way to start the day when half of it is spent jumping on moving trains. However, there is more to this spectrum other than waking up early. Like I said I spent a good chunk of my life using trains, and with life come the good and the bad… but sometimes the good memories turn into bad ones. You know the kind, like when you used to love chicken strips, but then you watched a documentary about animal abuse then made a vowel to never eat meat again. It’s something like that.


“What have you done so far on campus?”

After class I sat outside and watched everyone pass by. People on foot, people on bikes, people on skateboards, they all gave the campus life. The grass seemed greener. The sky bluer. The sun was bright just enough to where the heat wasn’t a bother. I guess I’m still trying to adjust to the reality of being here.

I could just leave and go home and embrace the softness of my bed, but I’m afraid I’ll miss something.

I wondered around for a bit when I heard the music blaring out in the distance. My feet followed the path stepping with the beat. At the source of the rhythm was a group of people dancing. My friend says it is a fraternity and they are probability recruiting. I don’t think I could ever join one, I thought. I was designed to go against a system like that. Regardless, I watched them dance under the sun.


Some time passed, I contemplated on what to do next (with both time and life), and how to overcome my shyness to talk to someone and make new friends, when I heard it again… music. I let my feet do all the work again. They led me to a band that had a jazz and soul feel to it. Rei Altru gave her voice to this sound, and she spoke only in poetry.

I’ve always had a soft for local bands and artist. I want to sit with them and talk about their art for hours.


A College Drop Out Back In Class


Retuning to school after a year long hiatus has a certain feel to it.

Last year, I told myself I would be dropping out of college. I dropped all my classes and left without even blinking. I even wrote a post about my reason behind this decision. That was then, I was attending community college, and this is now, I’m currently attending my first day at a university.

Being here feels a bit foreign and comforting, like returning home after a year long trip, I missed it. I missed the students roaming the grounds with their ripe minds waiting for the next hit of knowledge, and the teachers dealing out the drug.

The fact that I’m at a university in a different town changes everything. I don’t know anyone here or any place to go to. I’m alone but I don’t feel alone. I don’t belong here, but yet I fit so perfectly in.


“How’s your first day?”

So far my classes seem chill, but I’m only speaking from one day… all that can change in a week I hear. The first week is the easiest, it’s the usual syllabus week procedure which involves nothing from us (the students), but the energy to sit still.


My schedule consist of three journalism courses and one… dreadful… math class. My days are a bit janky, on Mondays and Wednesday I’m at school from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m. On Tuesday and Thursday I only have one class, and Fridays… well the fact that I have to come to school on Friday is murder in on it self.

But the day has been relaxing. The time I have to myself between classes have been productive and meditative. I read a book, and I’m now writing this to you.

I like it. I like it a lot. It’s only been a day and I can call this place a home. My mind was meant for the classroom.

I Bid Farewell To The Exile Kings.

I bid farewell to the Exile Kings:
the street warriors, the broken hearted lovers,
the silent activist, the bloodless brothers.
Y’all go by many names, but will forever remain my drunkn’ friends.

In a small boat I sailed alone and astray with time’s current steering my vessel.
The sea is unforgiving in its own way, suffocating the heart with uncertainty
and drowning the mind with whispers from the Devil.
Despite its cruel intentions, I owe the sea and time for these past memories.

We found each other as outcast do by shipwrecking into one another’s boat.
We took the remains of our wreckage and united our ship, building a crew steadily as we went.
Everyone spilled blood around a table soaked in beer within a fog formed by cigarette smoke
Our philosophy and speeches won’t be found in any textbook but in a book.

I never been good at saying bye, but I never been good at saying hi.
Stay true to you and never give up on your dreams, I write you this to remember me by.


This whole ‘growing up’ thing sucks. It’s filled with everything I hate like signing contracts, shaking hands with people in suits, and the root of all evil, money. I don’t think you fully grasp adulthood. I think you just get by with what you got and call it a life. Unless, of course, you were born into a rich family that pays for everything you ever wanted; to that I say fuck you.

I finally found an apartment (I think). It’s currently out of my price range, so now I have a new thing to keep me up at night. I have a new roommate. I never met her before, but she seems nice. We’ve been texting here and there to make the moving-in process less awkward, but I’m awkward by design. She won’t hate me, but she’ll probably think I’m fucking weird by the end of the semester.

Move-in date is June 29.

Hmm… Now that I think about it, if I nearly get enough money for rent, how am I going to eat?



It takes time for me to feel happy. It’s a build up with a refreshing reward. A lot like my writing, I patiently and precisely eloquent each letter and word to have a sentence sound exactly the way I want it. Even if at the end of the day all I have to show for it is a few sentences, I know the end product will be satisfying. That’s how my happiness works, I have to work on it until I’m happy. It all takes time minutes, hours, days, weeks, months. But it only takes a second to demolish it.

I told Alice I would go deliver both our application tomorrow with the money. I would meet up with Glenn back at the house at 2 p.m. and head back home. My phone rings, I try to cancel out the sound in my head to stay in my dream, but the rings are ear-piercing and urgent. My phone never sounded that loud until that day. In the background of the phone tone is the sound heavy rain hitting my window and the roar of an ominous thunder close by.

I answered the phone, the moment Alice heard my voice she laid everything on me. Glenn had called and told her that he rented out one of the vacant rooms to another girl, and the other room was free for the taking if she wanted it. She denied him, and said that if I wasn’t moving-in with her that she didn’t want the place. What the fuck were the only words I could utter at 8 a.m. Jesse, go online and find a place even if it’s a one bedroom, even if there is only room for one person to move-in. I’ll do the same and keep an eye open for a two bedroom, but no promises, she said. I laid in bed for two hours, mindlessly staring at the rain hit the window. Once it let up I sat at my desk and called a list of places.

The sun didn’t come out today.