Tekpen Refill 0.2

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TEKPEN Refill is the literary art folio of The Buttress, the official student publication of the School of Engineering and Architecture, Saint Louis University, Baguio City. It is the artistic outlet of the SEA spirit that is uniquely “BIBO� in every way.

Copyright 2016-2017 by The Buttress All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission.

Cover by: Sen Padua Front Inside Cover: Reendon Calaydan Back Inside Cover: Raquel Borja

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Editor’s Note 1.

From the break of dawn, the great morning star greets you, unveiling its child; 2.

Fuel our eyes to the riverbeds of asphalt, colossal sculptures; 3.

We can find ourselves– free and boundless within these concrete canyons; 4.

To the fall of dusk, the city lights radiate and never sleep.

5.

As we deeply breathe, listen to its heart and soul, as both lost yet found.

Let the street lights guide you.

Diego Antonio Castro Editor-in-Chief, The Buttress

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Écrits sur le mur Writings on the wall what letters can tell what words are worthy, to hold the story the melody that plays the heart softly, gently melted lights strumming notes with broken vessels see it sounding, the silent utterance bursting full with sweet serenity what letters can be faithful to this rhythm making life a monochrome rhapsody of colors splendors laced with glory wine waters in motion, echoless, timeless ever flowing drops into thirsting dust natural, overwhelming light and dark a breathing harmony in the eyes of children, in weathered faces filling up crying places with hope, real and deeply present what words are worthy to tell of these wondrous times.

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Distant I already reached so many cities, told so many stories, met so many people, searched everywhere and looked for answers but still everything’s not enough.

I still can’t have you.

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Silhouette Blue I was watching the pigeons fly, That’s when I saw you pass by, In a white coat made of cashmere, Walking like a song I longed to hear.

I took a step and you looked behind, You flashed a smile like an angel divine, I did the same and it made me tremble, Noticing me nervous, it made you chuckle.

Pace by pace the gap had closed, Little by little that face was exposed, Was it the breeze or my heart beating?

I do not know for my face is heating.

I closed my eyes as the pigeons fly, That’s been years since your goodbye, In red stained coat made of cashmere, Drifted like a song I longed to hear.

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Uncertain What if, one day the world found A way to let us meet.

Across the road, along the street and Unintentionally gaze each other’s eyes.

Tell me, who do you see?

The person you once loved or the person you still want to have?

What if, one day the world granted us A chance to encounter each other’s lives, Inside the same ride while going home and Carelessly touch each other’s arms.

Tell me, which one do you regret?

The day we met or the day you left?

What if one day the world made Us, happen.

Under the same glittering sky, while wishing upon the Star and sincerely lift all what’s left inside our hearts.

Tell me, what have you wished?

Another chance to be with me or a memory Without a single trace of me?

Please, tell me.

Those what if’s are killing me.

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The Robbed Thief Food. Anything, please. Can you spare me some of that bread? Some of that rice? Scraps from the luxury you possess? Mother will get mad at me if I don’t eat again. I always make her worry; I need to man up. Water, that too. I wonder if restaurants will spare me some. My stomach growls as I beg on these filthy streets.

It wouldn’t be like this if father didn’t leave us. We were happy yet he left without a word. Mother cried so hard that night, it kept me awake. I stared at our ceiling and thought “Why does life need to be like this?”

It hurts, everything hurts. The blisters on my feet, my empty stomach, my tired heart, they all hurt.

It hurts that I don’t exist. I beg and call their attention yet they never look. Their gaze is always forward or away, never to be laid on me.

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I won’t let this break me, Mother said there’s always a way so try again. She said that after the night she cried, she said that with a smile. Now I realized that that smile was for me. For me not to worry about her, she who was still crying.

It hurts, too much for me to bear any longer. I ask yet none give. I must take. Yes, I must take. So Mother wouldn’t worry, so it wouldn’t hurt anymore. I shall take for all the things that life has taken from me; my family, my house, my mother. My mother who died from working too much for our sake. She’s wrong. We shouldn’t keep our silence when life takes from us, we should take as it takes from us. We should take so we wouldn’t have to face a life as miserable as this. The life robbed from me, my father who left without a word, my mother who was a good woman who didn’t deserve this life. I want it all back.

I shall take for my survival.

I shall take so they’ll finally see me.

I shall take so Mother wouldn’t have to worry.

I, a thief, will rob this thief called life.

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Where I Wait I stand under this shed for days and nights on end to shield myself from rain that manifest condemned wishes that the stars refused to catch.

I stand under this shed and become one with the shadow it casts on the ground it stands on where dead flowers scream underneath.

I stand under this shed made with the rubble of your promises that maybe one day you’ll pass by and you will see the beauty that I made out of their ruin.

I stand under this shed where I think so often of your name hoping the wind picks it up and throws it around until it lands on your ears.

I stand under this shed that offers lifelong refuge to those who wait and long for undeserved people who will never come.

My dear, time is rather inconsequential.

Come find me here.

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A Walk to Remember The city is getting less crowded as I walk along the nearly empty streets. I look at each store, reminiscing the times we’ve been there. The city is giving me dreams of what could still have been. For some seem to be perfect, to be in place, to be somethings that will last.

But they are now all in the past and must fly away to nothingness. The city’s noise fades away creating an orchestra with my breath in sync. Opening my heart up to what I have lost, to what broken pieces I am now. The city but comforts me with its warm lights that dance from their posts.

The city then hears my curses of what love has brought me in the end. A friend who listened, who watched me tumble and get drunk along the road. The city standing alive with all it had been through every morning of everyday. And I am still trying to be alive while the city makes me remember of our walk.

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Lo Sono il Bambino Dimenticato I am the forgotten child The daughter of the moon and the sun Born at the death of the day In a city I barely recognize as my own The city lights never appear as immortal As the way novels describe them.

Now all I know is I am a child Born and made out of nothing Fairy tales lied when it told me That stars will always be with me in my darkest of moments City lights are imitations of stars that rarely visit me Even the moon hides when my river-eyes are present.

The sun never left me But his warmth never landed on my pale, fragile skin All day, all night, my bed is my only friend But I seldom visit him I am afraid of what he might bring For days, I tried to catch sleep But dreams come in clouds of unwanted memories They fade into storm of nightmares I scream for help, but nothing comes out.

Everything is bottled inside me, Like a city traffic under my skin Noise, rage, rush– It’s making me weak.

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I am the forgotten child I cradle myself to sleep Four hours is more than enough Sometimes I’d rather stay awake Than feel trapped inside.

At night, I walk aimlessly to rest my anxious heart Like short trips to busy and sleepless roads To streets that lead me home But these days, all I am is lost I don’t even know where my home is Do I even have one?

I’m afraid I don’t.

I am the forgotten child of the sea Her shore welcomes my bare feet She embraces me, kisses me, asks me if I am alright I don’t even know what to say So I let myself drown into her nothingness, Her undiscovered underwater castle Hoping I’ll be able to find my own home.

Hoping someone remembers That I am a child still I am a sister, a lover and a friend Not just anyone to easily forget Lo sono il bambino dimenticato I am the forgotten child Living alone in a city that never felt like home.

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In Motion Motion.

Everyone’s moving Fast and slow So does the world The child that once was Has learnt to walk And the stroll is now a run.

A sprint. A duel.

Some on the track, Some beside it.

It is either a road Or a race to glory I stand in motion As my eyes fix On the world that goes by.

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Tamang Panahon Nag-aantay lang ako.

Nag-aantay lang ako ng tamang panahon. … upang ikaw ay malapitan … upag ikaw ay mahagkan … upang masabi ang nararamdaman.

Nag-aantay lang ako, Nag-aantay lang ako ng tamang panahon. … upang bigkasin ang mga katagang, “Akin na cellphone at wallet mo, holdap ‘to!”

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Terminal Puting kamiseta at maong na pantalon Mainit na kape at dalawang pandesal Mangilan-ngilang barya ang tangan Almusal ay isang mahabang dasal Pilit iaahon ang sarili sa daluyong ng mga taong nagdaraan Makikipagpatintero sa daan-daang sasakyan At lalangoy sa isipan kung tama ba ang daan Saan nga ba tayo patungo?

Kailan ba tayo hihinto?

Sasadya sa salaming gumuguhit sa kalangitan Hahanapin ang sarili sa pagitan ng mga papel at pulang tinta Iihip ang hangin, at unti-unti, ikaw ay mawawala Hahanapin ang tahanang pilit mong kinakalimutan Luluha nang hindi tumatahan Magpapaanod sa agos ng mga kaluluwang ligaw Biglaan, mahahanap ang sarili, muling tatahakin ang daan Uuwi tayong amoy usok at balot ng grasa Gasgas na tuhod at brasong may pasa Sa dulo, doon tayo magtatagpo At bukas, sasabak muli tayo.

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Scraps and Spares “Sir, can you spare a coin?”

I loved books once, if you can believe me. I loved never-ending tales of heroism and honesty and charity. They painted my thoughts on people -who they are and who they can be. Now I realize that some books were written because they can never evolve from being just mere thoughts.

“Little boy, you dropped your toy.” The woman dragged him closer to her.

I had a family once, if you can believe me. I was loved, and I was taught how to love.

For instance, I love sleepless nights because they’re peaceful. I sometimes love not having a roof because I can sleep under the stars. I love candies because they are the best food I can afford. There are only a few things I love but I don’t really mind this just means I can keep track of all of them.

“Get away from there!” What would this man in the uniform want with this box of bones from the garbage can?

I know how to write, if you can believe me. I don’t have any pen or paper, but I like writing my own thoughts. I read from crumpled newspapers and I have my own opinions. But I don’t think any of you will ever listen.

“Just walk away,” I hear her friend whisper.

I had a home once, if you can believe me. It was small, but I felt happy. I had a bed on our floor and it’s the only comfort I ever knew. The people there did not really mind. Now, even after I stand from the cardboard bed I made, you still look six feet taller. ” This is what happens if you don’t go to school,” the man said to his son.

I did not choose this life, if you can believe me. Some of you stop and stare. Some of you stop and take pictures whose purpose I still cannot understand. Some of you stop and show people I am the worst you can ever become.

Can you spare some respect?

Can I spare you the thoughts we have in common?

Can I spare you the truth that I am human?

Perhaps not.

So can you spare a coin? Besides, it’s the best thing you can do.

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Escapism I made my own map Filled with unnamed cities North is my South; East is my West I wander And I found where I belong You are a city Of untold fairy tales Full of lights That dance with the noise In the silence, I saw how colors Fade in your eyes We listened To the songs Of our own wounds, We found home In the sadness Of the night We watched how directions Confused the people, We watched the cars As they come and go I asked if I could stay And you said,” Yes.” But I forgot that Everything is turned upside down And ‘yes’ meant ‘no’ I forgot that I’m a lost traveler And you’re a made-up city

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2502 Once was Home, Philippines I am broken. I wonder if you’ve noticed. I had been building myself with our moments like any kid would, and when they all shattered, I started crumbling.

I had to leave. Do you understand? This lonely maze of people and buildings fits me perfectly well. It’s the best hiding spot for whenever your shadows decide to hunt me down. This is a cage I don’t think I would ever decide to break out from.

I know you’ve been making and breaking more promises, and I know you would not tell me if you have. See, from this place, I have learned to know when there are secrets and lies – and you have so much of them that I have already stopped counting.

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I want you to know that I’ve been trying to live. I’ve learned to build myself with different pieces even though most of the time, they end up cutting me. You should know I cannot change myself back. I am now this person you never realized you have helped create.

Perhaps when the nightmares stop scaring me, when every night stops being cold, when every day becomes bearable, when time takes me to when you danced with me at prom or when you taught me how to write my name or when I could say I love you without even looking for a reason why I said it, then the house of our countless gray memories will start to feel like home again. But until then, this goodbye just seems to be the only promise that all of us can keep.

To: Mom and Dad From: The daughter you once knew 30

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Trails of You To the street I walk everyday with the ghost of you Tracing our steps, I imagine you took Remembering your scent that immerses me through The echoes of your laugh I can never shake Take me back to the day we walked To the park I pass along with your shadow still Sudden glimpse of us playing in the bliss of grim The vivid moment calms me like a pill Your soothing smile that sends deep trance of a dream Take me back to the day we laughed To the store I enter beside your haunting ill shade Flickers of reflection that lure me softly This lunacy I cannot shake I’m afraid What’s left of you is my now tranquility Take me back to the day we talked To these trails I return with the thought of you again Hoping you follow in the midst of this mvuss This chaos we search to soothe and amend A deep sigh to last polaroid of us Take me back to the day we met

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City Streets The bell rings and we stand. Another day is over, time to go home. I pack my stuff and bid my friends farewell as I make my departure, time for my nightly stroll.

It starts with the busy streets of the city. Noise and sparkles here and there, each trying to be more attractive than the other. The people clump together yet no words are spoken; Just another day, just another crowd. in a way, these streets reminded me of myself. It’s passion, its rage, I hated it. I head pass the noisy streets that minded its own business and went to the quiet park. The chilly breeze and rustling leaves make this my favorite part of my walk, I love how it soothes me with its silence. The world stops, no paperwork, no projects, no worries, just you and the calming silence. Then, out of the blue, she pops up in my head; her calming voice, her beautiful eyes, her soft laughter. Like my mind stops and I’d just stare at her lovely face.

“I wonder how she is. It’s been so long; would she reply if I chat?” The Silence brings out the questions I want to ask the most but before I could finish, I’m back at the busy streets. Then while walking, the streets reminded me of everything else. The honking cars reminded me of the time I shouted at the top of my lungs.

The nicotine, of the bar where I drank to forget what I couldn’t. The shattered pavements and windows, of the room I wrecked when you left. Over and over again, the quiet brings the questions and the noise gives the answer. Mysteries that I already knew but kept asking myself. Pain the ached but one I never let go.

After the walk, after the questions, and after the answers, I reach my house. Another day unsolved, another day like all the others. I unpacked, changed and lied on my bed and as I close my eyes, the quiet asked “Why didn’t it work out?” I replied “Because she’s the quiet park and I’m the noisy streets”.

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Stuck Stuck is what I sometimes feel Like when peers have better outputs Or when old friends catch up And show signs of growing up And out of the life We once knew of each other Stuck is where I don’t want to be When I feel as though Lately, my life has been All about preparing Working and waiting and watching And sitting in the sidelines Asking when I can do and feel and grow The way others do As they live in the now While it seems that I live for the later When’s my chance? When’s it my turn?

It’s not so much living vicariously As much as it is Just me Trying to enjoy what others have In fear that I may not have it myself Not that I’m jealous Not that I’m lonely But sometimes I’m stuck And I’m stuck wondering

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The Horizon Between­ You were an impersonated city humming with worldly life that provide contained sunlight to lodges of transitory smiles.

I was a masqueraded sky Brimming with endless nights That provide exploding lights To lodges of my stars’ cries.

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Stoplight This is where I play my daily routine A walk through the streets A monotonous scene A dull gray with a static soundtrack This is where I learn the rules To stop, look and listen Before crossing the street To be alert and quick and kept cool This is where I mingle With people to meet in places to be We twist and wind our paths with those We see only once, and then never againYELLOW LIGHT And this is where I meet you As another face in the crowd Another body to briefly share space with Another passing story I’ll never read Or so I think This is where I see you again- a rare chance No longer a being to forget, but a force to remember An intriguing story—a mystery, with history— A future with romance?

GREEN LIGHT This is where I see loud sounds And hear bright colors—how can that be?

Each day brings the hope That our stories can somehow flow together This is where I play hide and seek How I search for your eyes in every face How I spell out your name in every sign How I hide my excitement at finding you Only to keep my disappointment when you’re with someone new RED LIGHT This is where I learn the rules To stop the search for you To look at how your eyes light up To listen to your laugh as you pull her close And this is where I leave you Where we end before we’ve even begun.

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Incognitus The sidewalk has been the path I’ve walked through ever since you left. The lamp that’s giving off a faint incandescence was blinking with an uneven pattern giving me an opaque image of you walking beside me. “It wasn’t true,” I thought as my lips curved into a crooked smile.

I lifted my head and looked above. It was pitch black and there is even no trace of a single star.

As I continued walking, a tiny raindrop trickled throughout my cheek. For a moment, the sky was grieving and I found myself soaked in the cold rain. “I feel numb,” I thought as I slowly recognized the hot fluid that was coming out from the corners of my eyes.

I’ve felt everything and yet this sensation was quite the home I’ve been longing for. The world I saw was merely cloaked in dark hues and meddling tints, echoing from every outskirt of these lonely streets. A question suddenly unraveled in my mind as the incessant noise of traffic deliberately rang within my ear. “Did you even love me?” A cryptic that I’ll never comprehend; a question that I’ll never figure out.

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Inopinatum I saw the skies as they turned gray, I saw how little memories swept away.

I heard the mourning of every passing, I found that all’s but sadness and grieving.

The world before was a bit too odd, seeing this life as life in a mud.

Like death would come as little undressing, putting off your clothes then walking unnoticed.

Then you, as strong as the power of death, walked the path where I was, then we met.

Like a cat and a dog when they make their first, not a single hello was the silent outburst.

Then days after seeing the flames of distress whenever I see you passing by, moments made 180-degree changes, as if my life during our first eye-to-eye was a lie.

I am still in a sleeping reality seeing us now, holding each other’s, making our firsts.

The warmth of love that you give to my every morning, give me rendition of waking up smiling.

My skies are now in different frequencies of color.

Little memories are now made by us two, changing the mourning to the joy that you bring, changing the sadness to days of thanking.

Now we’ve woven eight-month long good and bad days, and by that we still have a long way.

That eight months can be eight years soon, but no matter how long I’d still stay as your moon, who’ll give my best to brighten you up in your bad, and show you my smile on your days of sad.

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Lily You are a flower In a concrete jungle Bearing a scent That tantalizes wolves You are a bottle A body so fragile A collector’s item Or one of disposal You are a wall That is meant to fall Like an apple left On a table to rot You are a boat Afloat by the blue Drifting away Afraid of no wave

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Missing Parcel in the City “People come and go,” they say.

But you’re not supposed to be people.

You’re supposed to be my home.

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City Lights I live between night and dawn.

I live between tonight and tomorrow.

I dance upon the valley that separates maturity from recklessness.

I find myself in the city lights, caught between my mother’s nightmares and my truest freedom.

My mistakes stay in the shadows, where I can leave them behind.

Each one breathes a different rhythm.

They’re like a photograph that’s been stained many times Only the edges can be detected while the details transform to grain.

Bars comfort the insomniacs, the lonely, the scared, the prideful, The weak, the lost—us.

We become only as tall as the stools we sit on, caught in a burning drink like a knot that won’t loosen.

I inhale the city lights and wait to be illuminated.

I find my shine in the first drink and the last one, and all the ones in between.

The sun rises along with my comprehension.

The cloud forms as my eyes start to see colors.

I try to gather fragments of the memories I surrendered, piercing them together to create my own conscience-soaked puzzle.

Another raw mark of passion bruises my neck.

The wind soothes my face while the sun kisses my cheek, momentarily cradling my guilt from last night’s wreckage.

It’s like the last remnants of sand in a shoe, there’s always some left.

Each night chips away, leaving ashes of me and my mistakes scattered among the city.

Until packs of cigarette lit me, you can find me in the city lights.

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Train Wrecks I look at you from where I lie— A heap of mess; I look the same, if I’m to guess.

There’s a cache inside our box cars, promises and hopes in our twisted metals.

I look at those— now smoky stacks, now visions blurred.

Look at them.

What are they worth?

Something?

Anything?

How far are we anyway from where we’re from?

Just how derailed have we become?

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B r o ke n C l o c k s 6:00 PM:

Your name created the harmony in my poems.

And I conjured all the chaos in yours.

“Goodbye,” you said.

9:17 PM:

It’s all right; I destroyed all your words before you could even speak them.

6:03 PM:

It was the only time I heard you sounding peaceful.

It was a fair trade.

It was the only time you sounded free.

“Where to, miss?” the taxi driver asks. Should I come back to you?

“Goodbye.” I wonder if you were asking.

You created lights in the darkest of places.

“Let me go.” You sounded as if you were begging.

Then you lost your own light.

You sounded as if you were trapped.

Because you gave me too much of it.

How many times did I burn you?

“A glass of wine, please.” The waiter nodded.

“Goodbye,” you pleaded.

It was your fault, you said.

“Did you ever care?” you asked.

It wasn’t.

It was mine.

I swear I could hear you breaking.

It had always been mine.

And all I did was to watch you break.

I lost you.

“Goodbye.” It was final.

But you never lost me.

“Goodbye.” I must have been dreaming.

You were never mine. Drink.

You loved the books I never finished You were never mine. Drink.

While I destroyed everything you tried to create.

You were never mine. Drink.

Goodbye goodbye goodbye goodbye.

You were never mine. Drink.

I have to hypnotize myself with that word.

9:00 PM: 9:06 PM:

9:31 PM: 6:05 PM: 9:45 PM: 6:00 PM: 10:00 PM: 5:45 PM: 10:05 PM: 5:47 PM: 10:08 PM: 5:40 PM: 10:27 PM: 6:00 PM: 10:35 PM: 5:00 PM: 10:36 PM: 10:36:30 PM: 5:10 PM: 10:37 PM: 5:20 PM: 10:37:30 PM: 6:00 PM: 10:38:10 PM: 6:00 PM: 10:38 PM:

10:40 PM: 10:40 PM: 10:42 PM:

10:44 PM:

10:46 PM: 10:48 PM: 11:10 PM: 11:12 PM: 11:30 PM: 6:00 PM: 11:59 PM: 5:50 PM: 3:00 AM: 5:55 PM: 4:00 AM: 5:56 PM: 5:00 AM: 6:00 PM: 6:00 AM:

But you never lost me.

Over and over again.

You never lost me. Gulp.

Like a broken record player.

You never lost me. Let me drown.

I promised you a lot of things. Five glasses? No. Six. So many promises. I’ve lost count.

Every single one of them broken. I remember you dreaming.

“Goodbye,” you begged.

And I was your nightmare.

“Let me go.”

I won’t say ‘Come back.’

“I loved you,” you tried to convince me, I will not let you get hurt this time.

“But I can’t do that anymore.” There it was.

I’m letting you save yourself.

“Goodbye,” you whispered.

“Goodbye,” I promised.

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Roadtrip Sa saliw ng mabining musika ng Rivermaya, Tayo ay masayang sumasabay na kumanta.

Nakahanda na ang lahat at nakaempake na, Dahil panandalian nating lilimutin ang problema, At ang masalimuot na siyudad ay lilisanin muna.

Roadtrip Sa malamig na klima una mong gustong pumunta.

Doon ay maginaw ngunit ‘di para sa nag-aalab nating nadarama.

Kabunduka’y pupuntahan dala’y ilang bag at lumang kamera, Isama pa ang baong adobo na niluto nating magkasama.

Susulitin talaga ang bawat oras na meron tayong dalawa.

Sagada At dahil paborito mo sina Paulo Avelino at Maja, Sunod tayong nagtampisaw sa dalampasigan na nanghahalina, Wala mang bagnet ay literal nating hinarap ang bukas na magkasama.

Sabay na pinagmasdan ang bukang-liwayway sa dulo ng karagatan, At ninamnam ang bawat sandali habang magkayakap sa buhanginan.

San Juan Hapo at napapagal man ay dumayo pa rin tayo roon.

Sunod na tinungo ang napakalayong destinasyon.

Sa nakabibighaning isla, malasutlang dagat at daluyon, Na pagmamahal sa isa’t isa ang inspirasyon na siyang baon.

Isinapuso ang iyong mga ngiti at kintal ng pagkakataon.

Koron Bakas sa iyong mata ang saya pero mukhang ‘di mo na kaya, Kaya naisip na patugtugin ang theme song nating dalawa.

Ako sa iyo’y nag-aalala na kaya’t pinagpapahinga ka muna.

Habang nagmamaneho, sa aking balikat ay nakatulog ka.

Hinalikan kita sa noo dahil sa katotohana’y kailangang bumalik na.

Manila At sa ating pagsapit nga ay hindi ka na nagkamalay-tao.

Tuluyan ka na ngang ginupo ng karamdaman mo.

Tapos na ang mga bilang na sandaling ibinigay sa’yo.

Masakit man ay nakasunod ako sa itim na karo.

Habang namumutawi ang malungkot na awit ni Gary Valenciano.

Paano ba ‘yan mahal, huling roadttip na natin ito?

Ihahatid na kita sa huling hantungan mo.

Sementeryo

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The Essence of Friendship The sky cuts itself open and cries for me so I curl up in bed and return the favor.

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Found To walk with drifting emotions Under lamp posts and Through busy streets Our hearts search for a single beat Our minds chase for a familiar feeling We wander through every crowd To meet new people In pursuit of a new beginning.

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Lost The feeling of agitation and nostalgia Amidst stoplights and Towering skyscrapers A univocal beat we once had A feeling we already stopped remembering Under fulgent neon lights We parted ways As our venture finally meets its end.

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LATE LIFE DRIVE

For a while it was like being in a long car ride with you, good music filtering the cold night air we kept between us, giving the stars a chance to get in that space because we were the universe, and it just so happened that you were my sun and my whole world at the same time and I was a constellation with my pieces scattered but you drew them together, made sense of them. Scenes of streetlights flickering, bowing a little as the car that held our story passed by them, as if every interval of light and dark in their flickers was Morse code for “welcome home” even though we were miles away from our city and the streetlights we passed never stopped flickering, like that “welcome home” feeling became something set in my bones because you were my home and it didn’t matter where I went with you because I will always be home just looking at you and your head nodding to the song’s beat and we go for miles like this until the world became an endless road that didn’t matter because I. Was. Home.

And then at one stop I was woken by that ping ping ping sound that cars made when a door was open and I suddenly found myself in the driver’s seat as if you weren’t there at all, as if all those times I was in the passenger’s seat, watching you and feeling sunsets pass by and deciphering codes and waiting for stars were just a dream. But how?

I felt groggy with the memory of you here. I waited until my breaths and the beats of my 61

heart synchronized with that ping ping ping sound because the car door on the passenger’s side was open, like you let me have the wheel for a while and decided the car ride was not for you, as if the destination I wanted for us was still too far away so you got out at the next nearest stop and you must have forgotten to close the door in your rush to escape the cold night air between us. I listened to that ping ping ping until the sun rose and drowned itself again and again and an unknown number of cars slowed down behind me and tried to give me wake up calls, the loud and angry honks piercing the synchronized ping ping ping, drowning out the sound of my heart for a while, but I ignored them and they continued on, by-passing me while I stayed stuck in that part of our road, our journey, in that moment of realization I’m holding off as much as I can—that I had to close the door myself because you weren’t coming back.

This was not a “stay here, I’ll buy us a snack” or “wait I have to pee” kind of stop.

You left me here. God knows where you went. Perhaps down the road we were supposed to take—conquer—together, or you found another ride and left me here in the company of an unclosed door and that gods-forsaken ping ping ping you left in your wake. I lost track of time, kind of like I forgot it existed but really, it was catching up to us, on the road, all this time. So we—you—stopped and let it catch up to us. I realize then that it’s here—this cruel, cruel time—sitting on the dashboard, incarnated in a red light that changes every minute. Change, it’s reminding me. Close the damned door. He’s not coming back. Get used to this change. So I held my breath until my heart was estranged to the ping ping ping rhythm, closed the damned door, and took the wheel for myself.

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3am 3am is for the fearless.

The ones who aren’t intimidated— By life; By death; By power; By love; By darkness; By loneliness.

3am is the existence of the dusky street lights.

It is when the soul relishes in its blackest pitch and learns to illuminate.

3am echoes the silent hallway, the drunk men’s laughter, whistle blowing out of the kettle.

It is when the world starts and restarts and fixes what’s broken and predicts what more to break.

3am isn’t an hour.

It is a lifestyle.

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Catastrophe I heard that the wind can do as much as turn skyscrapers into dust and rubble and beat away green lands as it surges on unsuspecting cities.

My love, my heart is not a city.

You are not the wind.

Don’t turn us into a catastrophe.

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Afterburn Sweetheart, did you know that when you started the fire that burned our bridge, the flames reached out for my home too?

Did you know?

Oh, silly me.

Of course you did.

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CO N

POEMS PAGE 4 6 8 9 14 18 21 22 24 27 32 35 38 40 43 45 48 49 51 53 56 58 59 60 63 65 66

TITLE Écrits sur le mur Distant Silhouette Blue Uncertain Where I Wait Lo Sono il Bambino Dimenticato In Motion Tamang Panahon Terminal Escapism Trails of You Stuck The Horizon Between Stoplight Inopinatum Lily Missing Parcel in the City City Lights Train Wrecks Broken Clocks Roadtrip The Essence of Friendship Found Lost 3AM Catastrophe Afterburn

AUTHOR Kurt Allen Paningbatan Keith Marvin Tagaca Raquel Borja Keith Marvin Tagaca Clouded Nine Danica Sherine Estillore Kurt Allen Paningbatan Lee Min Hoe Yoana Alexis Juan Hazleih Joy Casabar Megan Louise Malig Irene Van Rose Domingo Clouded Nine Irene Van Rose Domingo Kurt Russel Cayabyab Lhexter Mhervin Co Clouded Nine Kurt Allen Paningbatan Clouded Nine Jozel Johara Krina Gachallan @kneelfatrake Clouded Nine Keith Marvin Tagaca Keith Marvin Tagaca Kurt Allen Paningbatan Kurt Allen Paningbatan Clouded Nine

PROSES PAGE 11 15 26 29 33 41 61

TITLE The Robbed Thief A Walk to Remember Scraps and Spares 2502 Once was Home, Philippines City Streets Incognitus Late Life Drive

AUTHOR Michael Angelo Malicsi Jr. Corinne Andawi Jozel Johara Krina Gachallan Jar of Broken Hearts Michael Angelo Malicsi Jr. Keith Marvin Tagaca Clouded Nine

T E N TS ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE 1 3 5 11 16 36 39 42 44 46 56 58 59

TITLE Flight Test Untitled Under The Same Sky Urban Adventure Wanderl(o)st Overlooking Twilight Shizuka Fuan Accelerator Urban Lily Cotton Candy Nights Her City Cages Wandering Juicehead

AUTHOR Anonymous Ameena Pauline Ducusin Hazel Diane Estillore Steven Bruce Hazel Diane Estillore Ann Nicole Sutiangso Hazel Diane Estillore Hazel Diane Estillore Josef Franz Fuertes Raquel Borja Ameena Pauline Ducusin Ameena Pauline Ducusin Lhexter Mhervin Co

PHOTOGRAPHS PAGE 7 9 13 17 21 23 25 28 29 31 33 37 48 50 52 54 61 64

TITLE Untitled Untitled Untitled When in Session Road Vault of Heaven Padyak lang, bes.

Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Untitled Books and Sunsets Bakod lang na may hose Arcade Untitled Black and a Little Bit of White Untitled Untitled

AUTHOR Reendon Ike Calaydan Reendon Ike Calaydan Jubal Piacos Nill Patrick Dulce Hazel Diane Estillore Nill Patrick Dulce Jubal Piacos Reendon Ike Calaydan Jubal Piacos Keanu Malit Reendon Ike Calaydan Nill Patrick Dulce Nill Patrick Dulce Carl Lewis L. Capuyan Keanu Malit Nill Patrick Dulce Reendon Ike Calaydan The. Aspirant

MGA

PASASALAMAT Maraming maraming salamat sa mga SEAN na walang sawang sumasabaybay... Maraming salamat sa Admin ng SLU mula kay Fr. President Gilbert Sales, VP Dr. Noel de Leon, Sir Macalma at Ma’am Trish mula sa SAO; SEA Dean Dr. Cynthia Posadas, Dean’s Office Staff, SEA Faculty, KASAMA/SSC ExeCom at SEA Assembly, sa awesome naming advisers, Ser Erwin at Ser Des, SEA-LOL.. Kay Kuya Arthur ng CEGP at UP Baguio Outcrop, Uniwide/School Publications ng SLU. The Buttress Alumni, Butthead-at-Heart and to their family. A huge tenkyu sa John Roe Special (and Specialer), Jesson’s Special Patis, Kapitan Morgan, sa mga inexperiment ni Nikko, kina Ate Pupi at Sky, at sa walang sawang cats & dogs video posts ni Kuya Silver (we miss you!). At sa iyo! Kita kits next year mga pards!

Jigz: Thank you sa lahat! Kina Kuya’t Ate, Mam at Ser, Panda, sa mga Buttheads, MecE people, SEAHS; Sa Holy Petranity, at Forever Four. At sa iyo na nagbabasa nito, Thank you!

Nine: Salamat po nang marami sa Buttress people na sponsor ng barya kong pamasahe at supporters ng romantic endeavors ko. Haha. Salamat din sa Holy Petranity and the never awkward silences (whuuut). Lavyu guys. At sa iyo, reader, salamat Have fun unleashing your walwal spirit!

Krina: Solomot sa family kong expert sa food but not in planning, sa dalawa kong alalay na laging nagsisiksikan sa passenger seat, sa Holy Petranity na laging andiyan kapag hindi ko na kayang tumayo lol, sa mga ever-awesome Buttress peeps na iniba ang meaning ng presswork harthart, and to you, dear reader. Cheers to more adventures!

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Have a blessed year with all the academic requirements and live the college life to the fullest.

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Kit: Salamat po sa Buttress na walang sawang nagbibigay ng chance para maexpress ang nadarama thru poetry, prose, comics, and potograpi, kahit na di man lang ako mabigyan ng chance ni crush. thank you sa reader, always nagwawalwal but never the minamahal. labyu Gama: Maraming salamat kay Lord para sa lahat. Salamat Lord at nakakapag-aral kami kahit mukang 6 yrs na ito. salamat sa aking mama, kuya, tita, at lola Viola. Salamat din sa mga tanders(feel da tanders): Ian, Patsu(kaskas pa), Rhowyn, Jayson atbpa . Thanks to my critic Ms. Kathleen Gaspar. salamat dahil may ME garden, awu-awu. Salamat kay kuya EIC, at naihabol ko pa ito. Salamat sa ating publication at may takbuhang opisina. Maraming salamat sa BUTTRESS pips, at sa mga nagaabang para sa aming mga likha dito sa H407. BIBO SEA!

Krista: “Thank you for all your love and support. Soooo, yeah.

That’s about it” *leaves awkwardly* Kurt Allen: Thank you! To Almighty God, the alpha and the omega, for these awesome talents. Kay Mr. and Mrs. Paningbatan na nagsilbing inspirasyon at sponsor ko ng aking basic necessities.

Sa Holy Petranity, Buttress ppl, Fox, sa mga kaibigan ko sa MUSICEA, PICE, at sa mga piling tao (Angelo Avila, Ralf Peralta, Soy, Yang Urbiz, Vay Tayco, Verna Dulay, Gemuel Maca, Jap Silves, Siez Santi, Rizal Olbi, Edmar Almas, Rei Espi) , na naging sanhi ng aking pagkahubog bilang tao, mabuting mamamayan ng Perlas ng Silangan, at sa pagiging totoo sa aking sarili. At sa’yo reader, MARAMING SALAMAT….

Nill: Salamat sa mga taong naging inspirasyon ng aking mga letra - sa mga pinagtagpi-tagping salita na hinabi ko at naging istorya. Salamat sa isang hindi malilimutang paglalakbay na puno ng saya, pagmamahalan, iyakan, tawanan, kalibugan, drama, karahasan, sekswal, horror at droga na hindi angkop sa mga batang manonood. At higit sa lahat, sa iyo na nagbabasa nito...

Salamat sa alamat! Follow mo ako sa Twitter at Instagram: @ kneelfatrake *kindat* Nicolai: To write is one thing, to be read is another. The honor lies not in what we gave, but on what you read. Salamat po sa inyong lahat! Dahil sa pagbasa niyo ngayon sa mga salitang ito, ramdam na namin agad ang tunay na suporta.

Rocky: First of all, I would like to give thanks to my family and friends for supporting me in this organization. Your advice and comfort gave me strength to accomplish all my works. And also a big thanks to my buttress family who were always by my side – making me become a better member and helped me improve in many things. Your guidance and well-being gave me light. Lots of love and Godbless!

Margs: To my friends, close friends, best friends, super friends, superduper close friends, super ultra mega friends, and to my beshie mae, thank you for all the support and encouragement.

Thank you for always pushing me to grow and to become a better person. And most of all, for the life I have right now, thank you Jesus. Bang!

Renz: Para sa lahat ng mga taong laging nandiyan, maraming salamat! Sa Buttress, Musicea, Kemenichal Squad at GE Babes na walang humpay, thank you and I love you guys. Sa lahat ng ka-Sean ko, laban! Bibo SEA! Kyzell: Maraming salamat sa supporta mo sa simpleng pagkuha at pag buklat nito. Maraming salamat din sa Babies ni Buttlog na nandiyan bilang isang pamilya, sa villa brothers, at kay bossing. Sa susunod muli! Power!

Roge: Thank you to those who chose to stay by my side. Also, thank you to all my Korean, Japanese & anime boyfriends who never let me down.

Kurt Russel alyas Vogeltrobol: Sa SEAGMA pipol, SSC SEA opisers, CICM-CMV pamili, sa #PamilyaKoPamilyaNatingLahatPamilyaMOW at sa bois n gals ni Buttlog, maraming salamat sa pagbuo at paghulma ng karakter, talento at baba ko. Kayo ay mga alamat, at dahil dyan -- rakenrol to yor anes! At sa’yo na nagbabasa, kalmahan mo lang ang lyf at makakaraos ka rin. \m/ Lhexter: Salamat sa aking biological family, sa The Buttress, PSME at sa mga “spartans” ng Otto Hahn! HAHA. Salamat din sa’yo na kumuha ng kopya na ‘to. Cheers!

TheButtress EDITORIAL BOARD

UPPER EDITORIAL editor-in-chief Diego “Jiggernaut” Antonio Castro internal associate editor Alexandra Janine “T-gang” Caranto external associate editor Gamaliel Roi “Gamarey” Aquino circulations editor Jozel Johara Krina “Who’s your daddy” Gachallan managing editor Raquel “Whispers“ Borja SECTION HEADS & EDITOR entertainment and literary editor Nill Patrick “James Reid“ Dulce news and sports editor Ramil Ferrer Jr. feature editor Kristelle Corinne Andawi head photojournalist Jennifer “Jj” Belga head layout artist Margarette Faith “Margaux” Cayao head cartoonist Alexandrea Lean “Maganda daw” Galvez SENIOR STAFFWRITERS Kurt Rusell Cayabyab, Aubrey Winess Celzo, Lyndel dela Rosa, Jan Christian Mendoza SENIOR CARTOONISTS Emmanuel Ian Enabe, Cary Mariano, Ane Janelle Muena, Val Paulo Otoman, Khim LaurenceTugas SENIOR PHOTOJOURNALIST Renz Janfort Graganza, Katrina Martinez, Kriskyrill Dan Martinez, Mary Kyzell Rafanan, Jubal Piacos, Shaira Vinoya SENIOR LAYOUT ARTISTS Josef Franz Fuertes, Sydney Lapeña, Alec Likigan, Christopher Sen Padua, Krystal Gail Urbano, John Rhey Pengosro JUNIOR STAFFWRITERS Noel Anthony Ancheta, David Arzadon, Keith Marvin Tagaca, Nicolai Rvyn Lee, Michael Angelo Malicsi Jr., Kurt Allen Paningbatan JUNIOR CARTOONISTS Ameena Pauline Ducusin, Hazel Diane Estillore, Nobelio Mataag, Krista Vanimei Peñaflor JUNIOR PHOTOJOURNALISTS Denry Badua, Reendon Ike Calaydan, Rogelyn Gayle Sepian JUNIOR LAYOUT ARTISTS Lhexter Mhervin “Bebe Bhoi” Co, Kurt Lee Gayao editorial consultant Virjo-Anne Lacasandile ADVISERS Engr. Jeffrey Des Binwag Engr. Erwin Posadas

TEKPEN REFILL 0.2 2016 - 2017