SĀG Studio is an art and cultural refinery.

I often found myself fawning over the bruises you beaten into me through your icy words. The way you flash freeze my boundaries so you can crackle my confidence to dust. This is your favorite game, isn't it? Twirling the reality inside my brain to second guess the truth. I put a veil for you and you quietly sew rocks on to it before tripping me into a lake of sorrow. Now, I am riddled with disparaging anger, consuming the remainder of the sanity you've chipped away with your arrogance.

Unassumingly, I sat in my corner, headphones on with music blasting almost at a deafening state. The little dumplings happily parade their contentment by singing their heart out. Maevia picked her favorite book and stumbled towards me. I quickly wrote down my thoughts before pausing the beats.

I gently reached out for the book she confidently presented for me to read aloud to her. Goodnight, Sleep Tight by Mem Fox. I could recite it gleefully by heart, the lullaby for the past two years. Like a prayer, I sang her the whole book without missing a melody. She asked for encore and I gave her two more performance. Even her older sister, Elizá, joined the party of the century by singing along to every beat.

I could hardly remember a time without their light stomping and crackly giggles. I could hardly remember a time with his all-consuming emotional hunger lingering around our butterfly garden. Life after he walked into mine 15 years ago has become a blueprint of real-life clichés.

"Even if I were knighted by the King, he would still find fault with the way I bowed." I silently tell myself over and over.

Every bite was sour to the lips, nothing sweet devoured.

Yet, I still swallowed into the hopelessness of it all.

Every scent was sweet to the eyes, nothing pure adored.

Yet, I still inhaled in spite the haplessness of it all.

This time, third time isn’t the charm…

This time, third time is the curse…

There’ll be so many songs aimed at you.

There is a list of it already replaying.

In my dream, she sweetens life like honey…

In my dream, she darkens thoughts like tea…

In my dream, she blossoms in her own realm.

In my dream, she remains in her own space.

All the despairs will quietly dissipate into the abyss of memories.

“Another one for the list…” they say, solemnly compassionate.

All the whispers will calmly disappear into the depth of allegories.

“No pressure, same team, remember?” we wept, silently indefinite.

Every time you pass a tray of sweet red glistening strawberries,

Every time you smell a bunch of pure white clean lilies…

It was symphonically a maladaptive tales of broken hearts…

Standing for all the right reasons, at the wrong lifetime.

There so many things I want to say to you, but like any other men who have tried to walk along in my path, you are unable to keep up with the treacherous terrain. “A chaos magnet” they lovingly call me, my poetic superpower, along making men weep to their knees by the humanness in my words. Every man who came across my path has taught my strength, only a few understood the fragility of that strength. You were able to remind me to stop and smell the flowers when my mind races through time at the speed of light. I can only long for the cuddles I can only dream about from now on, are you my ‘could’ve been, would’ve been’? who the fuck knows, really. Definitely neither of us. 

 In another time and space, we would probably conquer our dragon side by side, but not in this timeline. The princess unfortunately must slay the dragon herself by keeping her gaze at the dragon and not moving a breath. She must mirror the dragon’s every move down to the inches, making every calculative sway and swing. Right now, you only have one little princess to safe, always has been and always will be, nothing more.